


Love & Lush

by MsBluebell



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, But Keith is stubborn, But he's trying to get his life back together, Demisexual Keith (Voltron), Florida, Fluff and Humor, Gay Keith (Voltron), Homelessness, Human Disaster Lance McClain, Hunk (Voltron) is so Pure, Jealous Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance is rich, Lance just wants to be Keith's Sugar Daddy, M/M, Magical Realism, Mild Creepiness Toward Keith In The First Few Chapters But It Gets Called Out On, Not everyone knows about soulmates, Past Child Abuse, Social Anxiety, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Touch-Starved Keith (Voltron), lance is smitten
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-03-11 22:28:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13533840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsBluebell/pseuds/MsBluebell
Summary: Keith has had a rough couple of years, but things are finally looking up. He has a job, an apartment, and is working on a degree. Life couldn't be going better for him right now.Then he meets Lance McClain.





	1. Ocean Salt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith just wanted to buy some nice things.

Life had made it very clear that it did not care for Keith Kogane. No exceptions, no questions, just pure hatred.  
  
Orphaned at a young age, or maybe just flat-out abandoned, it was never made clear to him. He’d just woken up alone in his dad’s desert shack the day after his eighth birthday with nothing but his mom’s knife and a stuffed hippo to accompany him. Waiting for his dad to come home hadn’t worked out very well, and after a few days and quickly dwindling resources he’d been forced to leave to look for food.  
  
Eight-year-old Keith had been found wondering the desert alone by his elderly neighbor; a woman whose name he couldn’t recall but he remembered taking him into her home and stuffing him with baked good while she worriedly paced her kitchen with a phone to her ear. The neighbor-lady had been so sweet and wonderful that little-Keith had instantly loved her. The wheel-chair bond husband was a lot more grumpy, but had taken equal care of the child, asking concerned questions about his parents and how long he’d been lost in the Texas dessert.  
  
Unfortunately, reality had caught up with Keith very quickly when the policed showed up…with social workers. It became very clear very quickly that they were less concerned with finding his dad and more concerned with taking him. Suddenly Keith found himself whisked away from the familiar desert and into the Texas foster system with nothing but vague promises that his father would be found soon.  
  
The first few homes he’d been handed off to hadn’t been so bad. There had been a young couple that wanted experience with a younger child before they had a kid of their own, a sort of practice kid, and they’d been very kind and understanding of the young child’s volatile nature. He was well fed and taken care of, with plenty of bonding moments and reassurances from both foster parents, and they’d hung his perfect report cards on the refrigerator with kid-friendly magnets. Keith had, at one point, come to accept them as his second set of parents by the time his first year with them ended.  
  
Then his foster mother had gotten pregnant and they shipped him off with bright smiles and thanks.  
  
It was all down hill from there.  
  
So how is it that, a good ten years later, that he was standing in the middle of a Lush during a hot Florida summer night?  
  
The thing about life was that it hated him. The last birthday with his dad, the old couple that found him, and his first foster home were the best parts so far, and they were so fleeting and bitter that it was hard to find much joy from them. He just wasn’t used to nice things.  
  
But life had been looking up lately. He was almost finished with Adult Classes at the local community college and would begin working on his Welding degree in only a few weeks. He was able land a job as a shelf-stocker in a grocery store recently, and just last week he was able to rent a cheap apartment. His first home in about five years. Sure, it wasn’t the nicest place to live, but it had a roof and electricity, and it was much safer than the bridge he’d been living under. His refrigerator was empty, his lights were off, and the water was the only thing running right now, but it was his apartment and that was as much reason to celebrate as anything else.  
  
So here he was, purchasing the ‘Ocean Salt’ body scrub that the clerk had insisted was the best product in the entire store.  
  
It was definitely pricey, and he became acutely aware that the money would be better spent on food or clothes, but he’d been determined to do this ever since that girl from class had sung Lush's praises and promised that using their products would help relax him and feel better about himself. Some confidence would go a long for for him, and maybe his ugly, lanky, underfed body could finally start looking like an actual human being.  
  
The scrub better be as amazing as the girl said.  
  
Plastic bag in hand, Keith thanked the clerk before turning to exit the store. Stepping out into the warm Florida night air Keith checked around before heading out onto the sidewalk. He paused, taking a moment to spot the best route, Ketih was torn between the back alley behind Altea Corp. and the Blue Lion. While both routes were a bit too overcrowded for his taste, the sight of Altea Corp's heavy security convinced him to risk trailing behind the Blue Lion instead.  
  
The Blue Lion was easily the most famous club in the city. The building was a huge modern style building made of white stone and glass. Multicolored lights flashed against the building, dying the white stone different flashes of color in tune to whatever son played at the time. Through the glass, the aquatic designs could be seen. The waves from giant tanks washing over the dancers as the infamous dancing mermaids swirled around gracefully.  
  
Keith shoved his hands into the pockets of his tattered jeans. Ducking his head down as he made his way down the adjoining alleyway. The bouncers guarding the overly lavish doors of the club ignored him in favor of keeping two rather violent arguing girls apart.  
  
Passing by such a busy part of town was always a hassle, but smart people tended to avoid the alleys Keith was so used to. He could avoid the nosier crowd easily, and deal with the less than pleasant creeps that lingered here in his own way. Keith had made a big enough name for himself among the low-level thugs and homeless occupants of the Florida streets to get by just fine.  
  
Normally, Keith could just walk on by. Maybe throw a tentative nod towards a familiar enough thug, but overall make it by without a scratch these days.  
Unfortunately, a drunken Friday night in sunny Florida to a lot of stupid people making stupid mistakes.  
  
Case in point, the scene before him.  
  
Nyma was a familiar face. A girl kicked out of her parents house when she was seventeen and forced to make her way through a shelter where she was thrown out a year later due to an attitude problem. From there she’d gotten by partially on looting and partially on stripping for some low-level strip joints. She’d cleaned up her act a year or so ago, when she got together with her long-time friend and partner, Rolo, and had been actively working to better her life from there.  
  
So why, exactly, was she dragging a rich asshole out on of the Blue Lion’s back doors?  
  
Keith wouldn’t normally bother getting involved in this sort of thing, but Rolo was a decent enough guy and had helped him out more times than not. Sure, he was in to some pretty sketchy shit, but no one deserved a cheating girlfriend.  
  
Keith took a moment to study the guy that was apparently worth cheating on an adoring partner with.  
  
Keith couldn’t begrudge Nyma’s taste. The man she had seduced was incredibly handsome. Lean and tall, with just broad enough shoulders. Tan skin that was shown off nicely by his half unbuttoned shirt. Sleeked back brunnet hair, and the most striking blue eyes he'd ever seen.  
  
He was a good catch.  
  
It was too bad he was running his hands all over a taken woman.  
  
Keith could stop her; step right in and send her on her way. Though, that didn’t change the fact that she’d already gone out and found another guy behind Rolo’s back, and probably would again even if he stopped her now. It looked like his good night had gone downhill. Instead of the nice night he was hoping for he was going to have to find Rolo and break the news to him.  
  
Great.  
  
Just great.  
  
Rolo was going to deck him in the face, if he was lucky and didn't get knifed or shot for his trouble. Then he was probably going to have to lay low while Nyma went on a rampage and tried to hunt him down herself.  
  
Keith had resigned himself to a few sleepless nights of Nyma banging on the door when the woman in question pulled a knife on the guy she was making out with.  
  
“Now.” Nyma growled. “You’re a really nice guy, and I don’t want to hurt you, so you better do what I say right-fucking-now.”  
  
The man’s face dropped almost instantly. The previous look of pleasure gone in the face of the new threat. Oddly enough, the man looked more annoyed than anything, rolling his eyes even as he put his hands up. Keith couldn't tell if it was a facade, or if the guy was just really arragont enough to not worry about being knifed through the throat.   
  
“Don’t fuck with me.” Nyma hissed; taking note of the man's oddly calm response and raking the tip of her knife to the center of the man’s neck.  
  
Well.  
  
This was even worse.  
  
With a sigh Keith couldn’t be entirely sure wasn’t an attempt by his soul to forcibly eject from his body and sail off to a better place, Keith stepped forward and made a very deliberate cough.  
  
Both sets of eyes landed on him. Nyma’s glare softening a bit before renewing with twice the fire as before. Keith didn’t focus on the strangers face, too busy trying to stare down Nyma and keep the inevitable argument as peaceful as possible.  
  
“Hey.” Keith raised a hand, trying for a more casual approach. It wouldn’t help anyone if the guy got stabbed because his rescuer couldn’t keep from startling their attacker. “Funny seeing you out so late.”  
  
“Get out of here Keith.” Nyma’s voice was low, warning of dangers to come. “Before I have to do something I’ll regret.”  
  
“You’re already doing that.” Keith responded as calmly as he could. Keep the temper in check, he reminded himself, there’s a knife at someone’s throat. “Or couldn’t you tell?”  
  
“Fuck off!” Nyma snapped, the knife unwavering. The man beneath it remained calmly silent and unmoved, odd for a man being threatened, but maybe he was just smarted that your average rich fucker. “This isn’t any of your business.”  
  
She’s right; it wasn’t any of his business. He could just walk away right now and let the guy get robbed. He probably had more than enough money, and Nyma had been struggling for so long that she didn’t couldn’t remember what it was like to have financial stability. It was easy to empathize with the woman here, remarkably easy.  
  
However…  
  
Nyma could in up in jail for this. The man knew what she looked like, had an up close and personal view, and probably had footage from the nice club showing them going out the back if Nyma was particularly unlucky. That wasn’t even considering if she’d been dumb enough to give a name, or if the guy didn’t just call the bouncers around the corner mid-way through the mugging. She wouldn’t even make it out the alley if he called for help after she’d run off.  
  
Why had she done something so stupid?  
  
Nyma wasn’t exactly the brains of her group, but she wasn’t dumb by any means. She was clever; able to pull out some remarkably creative thefts in the past. This wasn’t like her at all, especially since she’d sworn to go clean. The whole thing just didn't add up.  
  
“Does your boyfriend know about this?” Keith asked quickly; trying to appeal to the softer and more sentimental side of her.  
  
It was the right move. Her eyes softened remarkably, the blade in her hand wavered slightly. This was good, this was progress. If he spins this right he could get everyone out of here relatively unharmed.  
  
“What is he going to do if you end up in jail?” Keith prodded gently. “He’ll be heartbroken. And all that work spent going straight for you? Wasted.”  
  
“I’m not going to end up in jail.” Nyma’s voiced filled with resolve, but it was much weaker than before. He was getting to her; he just needed to keep grinding at her defenses without pissing her off. Not a simple task, but not impossible either.  
  
“Is it really worth it?” Keith asked, trying to imagine how he’d wanna be talked down from doing something stupid. “Is losing him worth it? Because that’s what will happen if you do this Nyma. Even if you somehow pull this off, he’ll find out, and you’ll lose him.”  
  
That seemed to crush her.  
  
“I have to.” Nyma whispered. “I have to.”  
  
“You don’t need the money that bad.” Keith argued lightly.  
  
“This isn’t about fucking money.” Nyma snapped, pressing the blade tighter against the man’s throat. The man still hadn’t moved, and a brief glance at his faced showed that it was carefully blank. The guy was silently studying them as they continued their conversation; as if he was just a casual observer and not a hostage with his life directly on the line.  
  
“Does that matter?” Keith asked. “Will that keep you from losing him when he finds out about this? Is it worth jail? Worth throwing everything you worked for away?”  
  
She’s wavering again, and the knife is slipping away.  
  
“Where does he think you are right now?” Keith pushes a final time. “Don’t you think he’ll be worried if you don’t come home?”  
  
That did it.  
  
She had no more defenses left.

Nyma flicked her knife closed and knocked her fist against the man's temple. She fleed the scene without another word, not even pausing to look back at Keith as she disappeared into the darkness of the alleyways. Keith watched the shadows for a moment, wondering if she had any backup in case the plan went south. Apparently, she was alone in her efforts, leaving Keith to stick around and deal with the aftermath of her mess.

Keith turned to face the man she'd left behing. He was leaning against the wall now, holding his head where Nyma had struck him. His clothes were a little ruffled from his little almost-rendezvous, but he seemed otherwise fine. The man had straightened himself out, whipping off the nonexsistent dust from his shoulder as he attempted to straighten out his clothes. The stranger's eyes turned back towards him; contemplative, studying.

Predatory.

Keith was starting to rethink his decision to help this guy out.

"You okay?" Keith attempted dispite himself; if only for the sake of being a decent human being.

The stranger's blue eyes flickered with something unfamiliar to Keith, but he decided he didn't like it at all. A smirk graced the stranger's lips; a look that would be charming on the handsom face...if he didn't look so much like a shark circling it's prey. Keith's fingers brushed against the knife hidden beneath his jacket; feeling assured at the touch of metal against his skin. He has no doubt he'd win if it came down to a knife fight.

"I should thank you." The stranger took a step forward; holding out his hand in greeting. "Lance McClain. A pleasure to meet you."

"Keith." He supplied, taking a step back, not trusting the hand offered to him.

If the stranger was offended he didn't show it. Instead he just dropped the offered hand and played with his half-buttoned shirt, drawing Keith's attention to to his exposed chest. The man deliberately ran a hand down the edge of his shirt, fingers brushing against his exposed skin. Keith forcefully flicked his eyes towards the man's face; trying to keep down the trinkle of irritation he felt at the man's ever growing smirk.

"Well, Keith." The man's voice held something weird when he said the name, something Keith couldn't quite pick up. "Why don't I buy you a drink? It's the least I can do after you saved this pretty face."

Keith's eyes narrowed. "No, thank you."

He hoped that would be the end of it; that this Lance would just back off and take the hint.

A wasted hope.

"Oh, don't be like that!" Lance tried to step forward and throw an arm around him. Keith, however, was having none of it. Without a beat, Keith took off in the opposite direction Nyma had taken, disappearing into adjacent shadows. He ignroed Lance's calls for him to stop; speeding away faster when he heard footsteps case after him. Unfortunately for Lance, Keith knew these back alleys like he knew his own mind. He swerved through the alleys quickly and silently; slipping beneath the comfort of the shadows with speed unmatched. Ducking underneath loose boarding and rabble as he ran; unhindered by the lack of light like his persuer would be.

Eventually, the sound of footsteps was lost.

Keith knew better than to slow down though, and didn't stop running until he got home. Once he reached his apartment he threw himself inside and slamed the door behind him; locking the cheap locks and pushing a table infront of the door just for good measure. Taking a moment to catch his breath; Keith studied his good work before giving a satisfid nod. Content with his blockade and convinced that Lance wouldn't _actually_ try and find him, Keith settled himself on the small matress that made up his bed. Curling up into a ball, he dropped the Lush bag on the floor next to him, letting himself fall into a tentative sleep.


	2. McDonalds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Retail sucks guys.

Despite his worries, nothing else happened in that night. Keith was able to make it through a tentative sleep curled up under a thin blanket, his hands clenched around the thin handle of the knife resting under his pillow. Blissfully unneeded.

Unfortunately, the stress and restless sleep left him groggy when he woke up that morning. He groaned, rolling off the mattress, regretting that he hadn’t taken the time to ease his frazzled nerves before sleeping. He rolled his shoulders, taking satisfaction in the crack his neck made.

Getting ready for work didn’t take long; he didn’t even bother to shower first. His job wasn’t the most glamourous thing in the world; nothing more than hours of stocking products on shelves. As long as he smelled decent there was no reason to care.

He had a nine hour shift today; which was about his average. Eight-and-a-half-hours of work with a half-hour lunch break some time in between. That was a good day, and so long as no customers were particularly annoying he should be able to make it through relatively relaxed.

Luckily, his uniform wasn’t unbearable against his sensitive skin. A simple dark green cotton T-shirt and a pair of jeans with a small tanned apron around his waist. The uniform was actually nicer and more comfortable than anything else he owned, which were the remains of thrown out clothes he found while living on the streets. Not to mention that his work building was much nicer than his apartment, with working air conditioning to keep the customers cool against the hot summer heat.

If he were honest, he liked being at work much more than being in his dirty apartment. It felt good to earn money for simple labor that wasn’t nearly as demanding as the lifestyle he’d lived only a few weeks ago. It was comfortable and rhythmic, full of annoyance and bad attitudes, but safe and with benefits that fit his needs.  
That isn’t to say there weren’t moments where Keith wanted to punch a rude customer in the face. This was still retail work, and just because it was better than where he was didn’t mean it wasn’t awful.

Case in point…

“Excuse me?”

Who the fuck was this guy touching his shoulder right now?

Listen, Keith Kogane isn’t a touchy person, probably something to do with out that abandonment and abuse, so when a complete stranger was touching him it was fucking weird. It didn’t help that years of homelessness had sharpened Keith’s self-preservation skills to near damn perfection. He had to physically stop himself from grabbing the guys wrists and slamming him into the ground with a knife to the shoulder.

Instead, Keith sucked in a calming breath and turned towards the invasive guy. “How may I help you?”

The man is a good two heads taller than him. Thick and muscular with a deeply tanned skin tone and friendly brown eyes. He was the kind of guy that radiated kindness and good intentions, and Keith was instantly glad he hadn’t accidently knifed the guy.

“Yeah actually…ugh…well…see.” The big guy scratched the back of his head, stumbling over what to say. “…um…where…are…where can I find the paprika?!”

Keith had to take a moment to stare at the guy, blinking blankly at the weird and fidgety guy. He looked like he was on the edge of a nervous breakdown now. And frankly? He had absolutely no need for that right now. “Aisle three.”

“O-oh.” The guy shifted his eyes nervously, as if unsure what to do now. “Ah…could you show me?”

Oh no, he was one of them. Those annoying customers who couldn’t even look at the damn signs and insisted on asking the most mundane fuck questions despite how easy it was to figure it out themselves. Yes, the blue cheese coleslaw was really made with blue cheese.

“Please follow me sir.” Keith sighs, slipping his box cutter back into his apron. He stepped away from his cart, gesturing for the guy to follow him, which he did with a relieved sigh. The guy was a mess, and Keith would be more than glad to get rid of him and move on.

As the walked down the aisles, the guy turned towards him, “Sooo, you’ve been working here long?”

Oh god, he was a talker.

“No.” Keith answered simply, not wanting to encourage conversation. The guy seemed nice enough, and he was kind of handsome in that take-them-home-to-mom sort of way, but he was also being fucking weird right now.

“O-oh.” The guy blinked, fiddling with his hands. “Um, new job then?”

“Yes.” Keith answered shortly, but not impolitely, he didn’t want to a complaint.

“Are…you in school?” The big guy asked nervously, probably aware he was annoying the worker, but unwilling to give up on the damn personal questions.

“Yes.” Keith grits his teeth together, knowing it’s unhealthy, but needing to focus on something other than the evasive questions the guy was asking. He nearly sighed in relief when they made it to aisle three. He made the sharp turn and walked straight up to the spice rack, pointing towards it, “Here you are sir.”

“Oh…” The guy stared at the spice rack, trailing off. “Ahhh…um…can you recommend which brand would be best?”

“I don’t know anything about spices.” Keith states levelly, inwardly proud of how well his keeping in his annoyance.

“You don’t cook?” The big guy turns on him, eyes blown wide, as if Keith just admitted to the most heartbreaking thing in the world. “No wonder you’re so skinny!”

Keith was a little offended by that. So what if he was thin? Until a week or so ago most of his food came out of the trash or the McDonalds dollar menu. All things considered he was in pretty good shape. So what if he didn’t know which spices went with which? He was upgraded to ramen and Kraft’s mac & cheese now.

“So what?” Keith crossed his arms, unable to resist at least defending himself a bit. “Not everyone can afford fancy spices.”

The guy made a little whining nose in the back of his throat, not unlike that of a dying animal. “What do you eat?”

“The dollar menu at McDonalds if I’m feeling fancy.” Keith told the man honestly just to spite him.

The man looked ready to die. “Dude.”

“Retail wages suck.” Keith shrugs nonchalantly. He pretends to check his watch and turns to leave, “I’ve got to get back to work. Good luck.”

The guy doesn’t bother stopping him, something the worker is grateful for, because it means that he can get back to his actual job now. Hopefully the rest of his shift would be blissfully relaxing and personal question free.

* * *

“You should have heard it Pidge.” The big guy who had been questioning Keith earlier cried to his friend. He was seated in the driver side of the van, but it was parked and unmoving in the grocery floor parking lot. The larger man had been too distraught to drive, and had spent the last ten minutes crying to his friend. “He said he eats McDonalds when he’s feeling fancy.”

“Lance is definitely going to flip.” Pidge shrugged, fingers flying rapidly over the keyboard of a laptop. “Although I don’t know what you were expecting Hunk. Lance said his clothes looked like they were picked up off the street, and retail work in infamously shitty."

“McDonalds Pidge!” The man cried out. “Fancy!”

“You can show him the light later Hunk.” Pidge waved off the older boy’s concern. “I’m almost done cracking these weak-fuck firewalls. Then we’ll have his information and Lance can sweep the guy off his feet.”

“Isn’t there any easier way to do this.” The Samoan man leaned forward, hands landing on the steering wheel, his forehead meeting the horn which caused it to give a brief noise. “This feels wrong Pidge. I’m pretty sure this is stalking.”

“This is Lance’s soulmate Hunk.” Pidge reasoned, her eyes narrowing at the screen, a small image of the grocery worker on the screen from where she’d hacked the cameras. “We can’t just wait for Lance to find him again. That could take years. I admit that Lance’s plan is a bit…weird…but it’s better to set up scenarios for them to meet again and form a relationship than wait god knows how long.”

"Still.” Hunk flinched a little as she looked toward the screen, watching the pale man stack boxes onto the shelves. “It feels a little creepy.”

“We wouldn’t have to if Lance hadn’t chased the guy off last night.” Pidge huffed, smirking as she successfully cracked through the firewalls. “He’s lucky I was able to find camera feeds that sighted him.”

Hunk sighs heavily, giving up on questioning the morality of what they were doing for now. There was no sense in it, and it was way too late to back out anyway. Besides, Lance had been the most excited of them to find his soulmate, being a romantic deep in his heart. “So what have we got on the guy.”

“He’s only been working there about a week.” The girl frowns at the screen. “No previous work experiences listed. Only two references, both simply listed as colleges. I’ve got and email, his address, and a phone number, but that’s it. No degree listed, no mention of his educational records, no emergency contacts."

"Dude." Hunk pulls himself up, staring at the girl with a worried expression. “That’s…a lot missing.”

“It also tells us a lot.” Pidge nods firmly. “He’s definitely poverty stricken, possibly a high school dropout or runaway, possible bad terms with his family if he has any.”

Pidge slams the laptop closed, growling in frustration. “We’re going to have to dig deeper to find out shit about this guy and make sure he’s not a crook or a druggie or something.”

“At least we got his name and address.” The Samoan reaches over to pat the girl on the back reassuringly. “You’ll have his background check done in no time.”

“This is going to be a bitch if he has a drug addiction or something.” Pidge huffed. “We’ll have to set up run ins with Lance and eventually get him into rehab.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t have a drug addiction Pidge.” Hunk reassured the girl, “He told me he was in school, which means he’s just trying to get his life together. So even if he was that means getting him into rehab will be easy.”

“Did you ask what he was doing?” Pidge raises a brow at her friend.

“He was cagey.” The large man winced. “I think he’s a private person, or maybe not used to people taking an interest in him.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Pidge turns away, tapping her finger against her laptop. “I’ll figure it out myself by tonight.”

“That might be easy.” Hunk stressed to the girl, hands fiddling with the wheel, biting his lip nervously. “But I think Lance is going to have a hard time winning the guy over. From the sounds of it, he doesn’t have the best situation right now, there might be some trust issues.”

“Oh, Lance is definitely going to have a mess on his hands.” Pidge smirks, eyes gleaming a bit. “You saw the guy Hunk, he’s skin and bones and only had a job for a week. No way he was living with family before this. I bet he got kicked out by his parents or something.”

“Why do you assume he’s a criminal?” Hunk sighed, reaching over to start the car once it because clear to him that they were done here. He pulled out of the parking lot, getting them onto the road and making his way back towards their shared home where Lance was waiting, hopefully he wouldn’t be too disappointed with the bare information they had.

“Hunk, he new the thug that tried to mug Lance.” Pidge wrinkled her nose. “He called her by her name, mentioned a boyfriend, mentioned she went straight and that doing that was backpedaling on her progress. That reeks of past criminal partnership.”

“Well…” Hunk trails off nervously, trying to find a bright side to their situation. “We’re not exactly clean right now either.”

“Over charging drinks in a bar and hacking information is different from violent crime Hunk.” Pidge crosses her arms. “I’m not trusting this guy unless I see with my own damn eyes that he hasn’t been thrown into the slammer for assault or something.”

“He clearly is turning his life around Pidge.” Hunk sighs, already tired of the suspicion. “Lay off him a bit.”

“I just want to be ready for whatever is up with this guy.” Pidge shrugs, leaning back and bringing her feet up to sit cross-legged. “This is a delicate situation, and we have to be ready for however this guy reacts. If we know his background than we can figure out how he’ll react and make this process go faster. There’s only so much pinning I can take, Hunk, I want this to be over. If I have to suffer Lance’s dramatic ass while trying to rehabilitate a criminal I’ll actually murder someone.”

“Just hack North Korea or something.” Hunk rubs his forehead. “You always enjoy doing that.”

“Maybe later.” Pidge waves off the suggestion. “I’m just going to focus on our plans for Keith right now; maybe do some research on the best rehabs and criminal reformation techniques.”

Hunk lets out a longsuffering sigh, wishing he had less dramatic friends not for the first time.

* * *

 Keith’s classes weren’t overly difficult. It was actually going and sitting there for a few hours that had been the hard part.

Thing is, he had been really good at school back when he was in the public school system, and if he had been able to stick it out in his last few foster homes he could have probably gotten a scholarship. But, being the impulsive asshole he was, he’d fucked that chance over. He hadn’t had a choice but to bail if he wanted to stay alive, and fifteen year old Keith had been enough of a dumbass that hee thought he’d be better off on the streets than going back into the system to another shitty foster family.

Dumbass. He may have been safer from beatings, but he had gone colder and hungrier. While he was able to make a name for himself among the underground community, and was able to fight off assaulters well enough, he’d taken other beatings a few times.

Still better than his last house, he thinks grudgingly.

But, he was doing really well in his Adult Classes, and he was confident that he was going to get a Diploma soon. Just three more days for each of his classes and he’d have a certified education. Then he would be on a sweet two-year track to a welding degree and a good, well paying, job that he could live comfortably off of.

So Keith sat firmly in his seat, right in the middle of his row, in the rightmost seat next to the window. The professor was tired, and it was almost the end, so he was having a hard time sounding interested in what he was teaching. Just three more classes left, Keith comforts himself, smiling despite his exhaustion. Just three more classes.

If he passed the last tests in each of his classes than he’d have a diploma with a good GPA. It was hard not to feel triumphant even when it hadn’t happened yet. He bet it would feel amazing once he had the paper documented and signed in his hand.

He bet it would feel like winning.

Marking the last answer on his worksheet, Keith stood up and walked toward the front of his class, handing it over to the teacher. They nodded, giving him permission to leave and head on home for tonight. He gave a rare smile, nodding as he made his way out of the room, his good mood making him feel light on his feet.

He last science class was tomorrow, and he had a day off from work. He was so close now that he could taste victory.

He’d have to use that face scrub he brought tonight, as celebration for finishing this class. He hoped it would feel as good as his classmate had claimed. Maybe he could even stop by McDonalds and order a few hamburgers of the dollar menu as a reward.

Keith hummed as he threw open the door to the building, stepping out into the warm night air. It was a long walk back to his apartment, an hour at least, but that didn’t stop his good mood. He’d just take the time to stop at the McDonalds on the way.

Straightening out his work clothes, Keith stepped out onto the sidewalk and started his long trick towards his building. The air had a slight breeze to it, which felt pleasant on his heated skin. He threw his head back a bit, letting the breeze ruffle his hair a bit.

It took him the better part of twenty minutes to reach a McDonalds. He didn’t bother sticking around after ordering two hamburgers and a water from them; simply choosing to continue his trek home with his food in hand and straw to his lips. His stomach felt wonderfully full after finishing the two tiny sandwiches, and he was happy to say this was one of the rare nights he’d go to bed full.

Unknown to Keith, however, cameras started tracking his movements halfway through his walk home.


	3. Money

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone finally gives Keith a break.

The thing about living in a shitty apartment is that it also usually has shitty neighbors. The building Keith was renting in was old and falling apart, just barely passing legal inspections by a hair, and that meant that sometimes he could hear every little noise one of his neighbors made.

So he was easily woken up when the arguing broke out between his neighbors. Keith blinked his eyes open warily when a particularly loud curse cut through the air, only for another one of his neighbors to tell him to shut up before he woke her kids, but it was too late and their angry crying following not long after.

“Christ.” Keith rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He groaned, rolling off the mattress and pushing himself off the floor into something resembling a standing position.

The yelling outside got louder, and Keith was pretty damn sure the rest of the building would be up and joining in on the fight soon.

“It’s too fucking early for this shit.” Keith grumbled, stumbling over to his sink and splashing his face, rubbing it into some semblance of clean.

Keith eyed the Ocean Salt scrub, tempted to use it just to calm himself before the mess, but knowing it was better to save it for a time he really needed it. With a heavy sigh, the ravenette cracked his neck and moved toward the door way.

Almost as soon as Keith stepped outside he was overrun by his neighbors, each of them some level of pissed the fuck off. He could spot them crowded around the notice board in the lobby, which Keith is honestly surprised anyone bothered to check.

His neighbor in the room to the left of him, an old swindler named Mr. Unilu, was the cause of the ruckus. He was arguing vehemently with a strange red-headed man with the bushiest, but well kept, mustache he’d ever seen.

“If you think you can just walk up in here and kick us all out than you’ve got another thing coming!” Unilu waved a dramatic finger at the mustached man.

Keith settled beside another one of his neighbors, a woman he was pretty sure was a stripper, and decided she looked sufficiently annoyed enough to know what was going on without being pissed enough to slap him, “What the hell is going on?”

“New owner.” She shrugs, sounding as annoyed as she looked and flipping her hair over her shoulder, dangly earrings dangerously close to catching the hair. “He wants to do “renovations” on the building. That’s a good sign we’re going to slowly get kicked out for some richer folk that can actually afford that shit.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Keith groaned, rubbing his forehead, trying to fight off the quickly growing headache. “I’ve had this apartment a week.”

His neighbor shrugs, making a sympathetic noise. She clicks open her purse and flicks out a stack of gum, plucking a piece from the packet and holding one up as an offering.

“No thanks.” Keith holds up a hand, not wanting to take the woman’s hard earned treat. “You keep it. I’m going to see if I can calm Unilu down."

His neighbor shrugs, blowing a bubble and popping it as she drops the packet back into her purse.

Keith sighed, moving to maneuver between the crowd of disgruntled neighbors, weaving his way through too close bodies and too loud voices. He makes it to the front of the crowd, thankful to finally have made it, and moved to keep Unilu from doing something stupid and getting them all kicked out of the damn building.

“I’m telling you this now!” The angry swindler stomped, “You’ll never, ever, kick old Unilu outta this building. My family has been living in this building since they first immigrated to this country, and I’ll be da-“

“Good lord man!” The mustached owner nearly screeches. Then, the next thing Keith knows, he’s being forcibly pulled into a giant bear hug. “Watch your language! There are children present.”

Keith is frozen, unsure how to react to the sudden intrusion. There’s a brief, horrible, moment where all he can see is a fist flying at him, or hands around his neck, and he’s so frozen in pure unadulterated fear that he’s surprised he hadn’t started screaming.

And the man still hadn’t let go.

“That’s not a child!” Unilu swings his finger wildly. “That’s a college boy! You know how poor those are!”

The red-headed man blinks, turning to face the still frozen boy in his arms, pulling away once he sets eyes on the ravenette. “Oh, my apologies lad! You’re so thin and small that I mistook you for a wee lad.”

“And now you’re insulting our poverty!” Unilu spits, trying to rile up the crowd. It works, because the rest of the crowd is starting to get fussy again. “Talking about how thin that boy is! As if he could afford to eat! If he could afford good food he wouldn’t be here! Stop trying to drive us out of home when there’s already nowhere cheaper to go!”

That got the crowd behind him, a number of his neighbors voice their complaints now, becoming a giant ruckus of indiscernible noise. The noise grates on Keith’s already frayed nerves, and he’s quickly finding himself suffering through some serious overstimulation.

He should have stayed in bed.

“Now see here!” The mustached man yells indigently, absolutely offended by Unilu’s words, “I have no intention on driving any of you out of your homes. These renovations are absolutely not at the expense of the residents of this building!”

Keith barely has time to wonder if he could somehow budget sound-proof headphones when the new owner is grabbing his shoulder and pulling him into a one armed hug, pointing dramatically in the air, “You, my good residents, have the fortune of being subject to Altea Corp’s new humanitarian efforts! Miss Allura Alteais, CEO of the company, has been convinced that this building would be perfect for testing the plans for the new and affordable Eco-Friendly apartments!”

The crowd looked thoroughly unconvinced by the enthusiastic man’s attempts to turn the tides, but Keith was too busy dealing with other issues to worry about that. Namely, the fact that the man was well within his personal bubble and touching his over sensitive skin.

Fuck, look, being touch starved meant he had some serious overstimulation issues, alright? He wasn’t being an asshole here, or maybe he was, but that meant that touch was overwhelming for him sometimes. And this guy, who’s name he didn’t even know, was grabbing him out of nowhere like they were best buddies.

So he felt more than a little justified when he snapped at the guy, “Let go of me.”

The man drops his arms, backing away from the ravenette sheepishly, “So sorry about that lad, I tend to get a bit carried away at times.”

“So he says.” Unilu sneers.

“Yes, yes.” The red-headed man turns back on the crowd. “But! As I was saying before, we have no intention of turning any of you out of house or home. We at Altea Corp have no plans to increase any of your rents or other such example of gentrification! This is simply a nonintrusive experiment to prove that Eco-Friendly homes can be affordable and break even in relatively little time if done correctly.”

“Is it really nonintrusive?” One of his neighbors, a young mother if the baby in her arms was any indication, asked. “I don’t want anything to make my kid sick.”

“None at all. There will be no change to your routine at all once renovations are done.” The owner waved off casually.

“And no increase to rent at all.” Unilu raised a brow skeptically.

“Absolutely none.” The man reassured with a enthusiastic word. “You have my word as the representative of Altea Corp! Coran Smythe has never went back on his word.”

“I don’t believe that for a moment!” Unilu wagged his finger at the man threatingly.

“Well, it’s enough for me.” Another neighbor said, turning to walk back to their apartment now that they’ve been assured that they’d be relatively fine, “I’ve got more important shit to do today.”

The rest of his neighbors broke off at after that, losing the motivation to stay after they’d gotten the word on the subject. Whether or not they believe in the man’s promises were their own business, and Keith wasn’t inclined to think too much on it. He’d give it some time, but he’d research some other cheap apartments in his free time just in case.

Turning away from the arguing men, Keith fully and completely intended to make his way back to his apartment and go right back to bed. Unfortunately life had a problem with this idea, because Keith found himself stopping as the new owner called after him, “Just a moment lad!”

Keith paused, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to calm his frayed nerves as he turned back to face his new landlord. “Yes sir?”

The man, Coran, took a moment to study him, scrutinizing every inch of his body before finally speaking, “You look like you could carry a few good boxes. How would you like to make a little extra money and help me carry in some supplies I brought with me?”

Keith paused, suddenly interested, “How much are we talking?”

“Hmm…” Coran brushed his moustache contemplatively. “How does…five hundred dollars sound?”

Keith’s eyes could have bugged out of his skull, but he was able to keep his face schooled as he nodded in acceptance. Five hundred dollars…just for carrying in a few boxes. That was more than he made in a week. It didn’t matter what was in those boxes or how many there were, he couldn’t afford not to take the chance. He could do so much with that money; food, clothes, emergency money, repair in the apartment, get his lights turned on for the month.

It was almost too good to be true.

Which made him a bit paranoid.

“Excellent.” Coran perked up, gesturing towards the doors of the lobby, “Follow me lad!”

And Keith did, though carefully and skeptically, and with more than a little hesitance now that the initial shock of the offer had worn off.

The man lead Keith to a van parked in front of the building, and their couldn’t possibly be enough boxes in the back of it to justify the amount of money he was shelling out right now.

There’s a horrible suspicion building in his chest, and for a moment he’s sure that the new owner is about to throw him in the back and drive away to sell him.

Keith’s hands clench, and his body tightens in preparation. He’s more than ready to fight if Coran tries shit, and he’s ready to scream loud enough to get the rest of the building out here too.

Instead, Coran throws open the doors to the back of his van with a flourish and twirls away while throwing his arms out dramatically, gesturing towards the pile of boxes in the back. “Here we are lad! Just help me carry these boxes to the front end and we’ll be done in a jiff!”

Keith blinked, surprised by the honesty the man displayed.

Violet eye turned on the pile of boxes, and there definitely wasn’t enough there to justify the amount of money Coran had offered him. There were so little that Keith would have offered to carry them in for free just because he was feeling a bit nice.

Coran grabbed one of the boxes before turning on his heel, “Chop, chop, get to it then! No need to waste daylight.”

Keith frowned lightly, puzzled by the whole situation, grabbing another box before following after the new owner.

How rich was this guy if he honestly thought this pitiful amount of labor was worth five hundred dollars? Was he even rich? He had to be if he worked for Altea Corp and bought a building just to do some experimental renovating.

It took only about ten minutes for them both to carry the boxes to the front desk in the lobby and settle them. Coran wasted no time from there, instantly pulling out his wallet and bringing out a stack of twenties, “Here you are lad! Your payment!”

The pale youth stared at the stack, very tempted to just take it and be done with it. He couldn’t afford not to take good money like that in the past, too poor to second guess, with his life always hanging by a thread. But now he was on his feet, building something of himself, and he didn’t need to rip off some rich guy just to get by. Maybe if Coran had been an asshole he would’ve done it, but he was nice, even if he didn’t have a sense of personal space.

“No.” Keith shakes his head, waving off the payment, “Don’t worry about it, this wasn’t too much work.”

“No, no, my boy!” Coran insists, pushing the cash into Keith’s hand, “I’m a man of my word! I promised you pay for your labor and you’ll certainly get it!”

“But…” Keith trails off, his hands clenching around the stack of twenties tightly, turning his eyes upward to stare at Coran uncertainly. He honestly wasn’t used to this…this…honesty?...humbleness?...He couldn’t say what it was, but it made a lump build in his throat.

He hadn’t known someone like this since Shiro.

Keith bit his lip, “This is too much for the work I did.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Coran placed a hand gently on Keith’s shoulder, “It was the money I promised, and it’s what you’ll get. I certainly won’t be taking it back.”

Keith felt his heart tighten, his shaky hand clenching tightly around the stack of bills moving to try and clench at his chest, trying to make sense of what was happening. He shakes his head, trying to straighten his thoughts, and shoves the money into his pocket. He turns back to the silently watching Coran, shaking his head and straightening out again, “Thank you.”

He hopes his voice doesn’t sound as emotional as he actually feels.

“It’s certainly no problem lad.” The red-headed man nods. He turns on his heel again, making his way over to one of the other boxes before speaking again, “If you want to make even more money I could always use a bit more help.”

“What do you need?” Keith askes, moving to see what Coran was working on.

The man turns to him with a large grin, holding a handful white and black glassy and plastic domes, “Well lad! You can certainly help me find places to install these security cameras! I think another five hundred dollars will do!”

Keith could only nod dumbly.

* * *

  
Lance McClain knew he probably wasn’t the most patient person in the world, but he liked to thing that, for once, he was completely and totally justified to feel anxious as fuck.

“It’s been two days.” He complained, his leg tapping violently as he leaned maybe a little too heavily against the thick glass table. He was almost keeping in rhythm with his club’s faced paced dubstep downstairs. He wasn’t a fan of the genre himself, but a lot of his customers liked to get down and dirty on the dance floor to it with glow sticks and tonic. He was in a silent room though, so the music was mostly muted, only sounded as loud vibrations against the wall. He liked this room to more than his actual meeting rooms upstairs because he could keep an eye on the bar and dancefloors through the glass wall.

“And it’ll be longer if you keep complaining.” Pidge said snidely, side-eyeing him, “I’d like to remind you that you’re the one who scared the guy off.”

“Hey!” Lance threw himself up in a sitting position, “I didn’t do anything wrong! He just bolted!”

“You acted like a creep.” Pidge snipes back, “I saw the cameras, you looked ready to eat him, and right after you almost got mugged too. I would’ve run too if I were him.”

“I was trying to be nice and thank him for saving me.” Lance protested, crossing his arms and letting himself fall back against the white leather seating of the couch, “I was going to do this nice and slow, treat him right, buy him a drink and get to know him.”

“After he just watched you make out with a woman he knew was in a relationship, had to talk her down from mugging you, and then the first thing you do is try to get him a drink?” Pidge sighs, leaning back and pushes up her glasses, “No offense Lance, but that was a bad idea. From what I’ve been able to find on the guy he’s got reason to be paranoid.”

Lance frowns here, reaching over for the file folder Pidge had yet to give him, only for the girl to snatch it away with a tsk. “Not so fast lover boy.”

“I deserve to know.” Lance frowns, “He’s my soulmate. I deserve to know how to find him.”

“And we need a plan.” Pidge points out, unpitying, “I’ve been reading up on this guy for the last two days, watching him every chance I get, and I’ve got a pretty good idea how he works now. We don’t want to rush this.”

Lance huffed in frustration, crossing his harms as his leg began to bounce again, “Any why’s that? What’s wrong with him?”

“A lot.” Pidge answers bluntly, and Lance can’t help but flinch at her tone. “From what I can tell this guy has been through some shit Lance.”

The brunette feels his heart lurch at the news, his stomach twisting as all sorts of scenarios play out in his mind. True, his soulmate wasn’t the healthiest looking person, and he was a big ragged, but it couldn’t be too bad…could it?

“Hand me the file Pidge.” Lance demands, no longer in the mood to play around. He wants to find his soulmate now and take care of him before anything else happens.

“Only if you promise not to rush off and do anything stupid.” Pidge isn’t budging a bit on this, holding the file well out of reach, “Coran and I worked very hard on the plan we set up, and we need time to worm our way into his good graces before we introduce you.”

Lance growls in frustration, his knuckles whitening as they tighten around his arm, every part of him tensing up. Pidge had a good point, she had a very good point, they couldn’t rush this.

This was too delicate to rush.

But…

Lance had been waiting for years to find his soulmate. Waiting day in and day out, on the floors of his nightclub, and out on the town trying to find them. And, sure, he’s had a bit of fun on the way, but nothing had ever been more important than finding his other half. And now that he’d seen him, now that Lance knew where he could find him, waiting any longer felt like agony. It was almost physically painful to wait here while his soulmate, Keith, was out there, not knowing he’d found the one person in the world that would get him better than any other.

Lance had waited a long time to feel whole.

But if it got him to Keith faster than he could play along with Pidge’s plan, “Fine.”

Pidge nodded, satisfied, and slid him the file.


	4. Association

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith's takes a big step in making his life better.

Keith got off work feeling on top of the world. With his paycheck rest snuggly in his wallet and a thousand dollars in the bank, there was a good damn reason to feel good.

The raven haired boy hummed as he moved outside the store, stepping under the archway over the entrance, patting his wallet to make sure it was snuggly in place. He hooked the chain around his belt loop, running his fingers over the cool chain, comforted by the feel of it against his fingertips.

It was raining outside today, which was bad for someone who didn’t own a car or an umbrella, but even that wasn’t enough to ruin Keith’s mood.

He stepped into the rain, starting his trek home with only some tribulation. The rain was heavy, soaking him after only a minute of walking, but it wasn’t anything that wouldn’t dry off later. He still avoided the larger puddles, but it did little to keep his socks from getting wet. His shoes, at least, were made of rubber and were specifically made to prevent slipping on spills at work though, so at least he wouldn’t slip and break his ass in the middle of the lobby once he got back to the apartment.

At least he didn’t have any classes tonight.

He soaked to the bones by the time his apartment building in within sight, and water is dripping so heavily in his eyes that he has to constantly whip away the steady stream in order to see.

Keith slips inside of the building with a sigh of relief. He’s dripping all over the giant greeting mat though, hopefully Coran and the other residents wouldn’t mind.

Speaking of Coran…

Violet eyes flicked over toward the front desk, not spotting anyone there. Unconsciously, he found himself glancing over at the camera set up in the corner of the lobby, pointing towards the desk and the locked door behind it where the new landlord was keeping all the important stuff he brought for the renovations so far. Keith didn’t blame Coran, that stuff he brought looked valuable and someone could probably fence a lot for it.

Keith hummed, nodding to himself, satisfied that the new landlord was taking _some_  protective measures for the building. Maybe he was just paranoid, but he felt safer knowing that if anyone tried to break into the building their would be video evidence that they were here. He and Coran had spend the better part of two hours installing the cameras in the best locations to catch a break-in without disturbing privacy; ending up installing four outside the building, two in the lobby, and one the two staircases.

Violet eyes flickered over to the notice board, noticing a brightly colored paper pinned in the middle that hadn’t been there when he’d left for work this morning. Curious, Keith walked over toward the board, unmindful of the water dripping on the floor as he walked.

The paper was a bright, light pink, color with equally bright, blue, lettering. Decorated with lots of smiles and smiley faces, and even a few little flowers and what looked like mice.

 _HOUSE MEETING IN THE LOBBY SITTING AREA_  
_TIME: 5:00 PM_  
_PLEASE ATTEND!_

Keith hummed, eyes flickering over towards the lobby clock, he had an hour before the meeting. That was plenty of time to get changed and dry off.

Fiddling with his keys as he stepped down the hallway, Keith unlocked his door and entered his room, feeling better now that he was safe and secure in the safety of his apartment.

Bee lining toward the bathroom, he gently pealed off his work clothes, throwing them over the shower wall and leaving them to dry over the drain. He grabbed his towel off the rack, toweling his hair until it wasn’t dripping with water anymore.

Digging through his meager collection of clothes, Keith picked out the cleanest and most put together of the collection, which was a worn V-neck with loose and tattered jeans. He slipped them on carefully, trying not to tear the already damaged ends, before checking the time on the small stove.

He still had about fourty-five minutes left.

Now came a whole other dilemma.

It wasn’t often Keith found himself with nothing to do. Before he lived here his time was spent trying to survive, and now all his time had been spent studying or working. Now, with only one class left for the next few weeks and now work, Keith found himself startlingly idle.

He didn’t have any books or a TV to distract him, and he hadn’t gotten around to buying a cellphone yet, so he had nothing to really keep his hands busy.

The pale boy bit his lip, moving to lay on top his mattress, content to wait out the time between now and the meeting resting.

…

It wasn’t working out.

Violet eyes flickered over his apartment, studying the nooks and crannies, noting every flaw that he’d have to fix. Well, that Altea Corp would have to fix. When were they getting those renovations anyway? It would have to take a while, even if Coran seemed to be taking his new role as landlord seriously.

Keith bodily rolled onto his side, picking at the edge of his sheetless mattress, twisting his other hand under the blanket he used as a duvet.

He wondered if he could buy an actual bed with the money he had now. Or maybe he could buy a cheap computer so he could actually do his homework closer to home instead of the library. Maybe he could go ahead and pay next month’s rent?

He bit his lip, thinking over the possibilities, trying to decide which one was most important. This extra money wasn’t something that was going to keep happening to him, after all, and he’d gotten really lucky to catch Coran’s attention in the first place. It’d probably be best to go ahead and pay next month’s rent. At least then he could be sure that there would be a roof over his head for another month.

Keith fidgeted, a bit, feeling restless. He tugged at the blanket, spreading it out, and rolling into it until he was nice and cocooned inside the comforting fluff with his bare feet just barely peaking out. He curled into a ball, letting his eyes blink shut as the cocoon warmed around him.

The pale boy hummed, letting his mind drift to that blissful place between sleep and wakefulness he hadn’t been to often. He was still aware, he wasn’t ever truly unaware of his surroundings, but felt secure enough right now to pretend that maybe he was safe here. So he laid there, warm in his cocoon, lulled in my the pitter-patter of rain against the window, only ever broken by the soft footsteps of his neighbors upstairs.

It felt like hours passed like that, but when he was able to force himself into standing up and checking the time again.

Ten minutes to go.

Keith grumbled, dropping the blanket back onto his mattress, moving out of his apartment and locking it before making his way back to the lobby sitting area to wait out the rest of the ten minutes.

There’s only two other people there when he arrives; Coran and his stripper neighbor. He takes a seat on the opposite end of his neighbor on the cheap couch, which he’s pretty sure was in a junk yard last week.

Coran waves enthusiastically at him once the man looks up from his tablet long enough to notice someone else had arrived, “Well hello there my boy! Good to see you!”

Keith sinks into the couch a bit, nervously holding up his hand to give a small wave, “Hey.”

The landlord turns back toward his tablet, humming a bit as he tabbed at it rapidly, giving an occasional swipe as well.

The next few minutes are spend in an awkward silence, with Keith trying to sink further into his seat as his neighbor leans on her arm and pops her bubble gum. Three more people join them before long, two younger people that Keith didn’t recognize, a rather built girl and a boy who looked enough like her to be a sibling, and what had to be the biggest damn man Keith had ever seen in his entire life.

The big man settled into one of the arm chairs a little too close for Keith’s comfort, and the two younger people settled onto the loveseat the right of his neighbor.

One the clock on the wall hit five o’clock even no one else showed up. Coran, however, must have decided that there were more than enough people to start this meeting, because he threw himself up with a flourish,

“Welcome! Welcome! I’m glad you could all be in attendance for the first a house meeting of the new Altea Eco-Friendly Apartments!”

Keith blinked, raising a brow at the man, apparently the building was getting an actual _name_  now. That was certainly a step.

None of the other neighbors looked particularly impressed either, with only one of the built girl on the love seat tilting her head in interest.

Coran seemed unfazed by their lack of enthusiasm though, having more than enough of it for all of them, “I’m sure you are all wondering why I called you here!”

“Yes.” The boy on the loveseat crossed his arms, scolding at the man, “We have little time to waste. What news so is worthy of our time that you felt the need to summon us?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Coran waged a finger dramatically, twirling to point at the group, “This, my fine residents, is the first official meeting of our Apartment Association.”

There was another pause in the group as several people lifted their eyebrows, the stripper neighbor actually even pausing from chewing her gum in order to stare down the man, “Our what?”

“Apartment Association!” Coran repeated.

“Like…” The built girl trailed off, lifting her fingers to hold her chin in thought, “…a home owner’s association?

“A fair comparison.” Coran crossed his arms over his chest in a ‘X’ shape, “But not quite.”

“Then explain.” The guy on the loveseat huffed.

“As a part of the Apartment Association, you five…” Coran took a moment to sweep his arms in a grand gesture indication all of them, “…will be the ones responsible for voting on the most pressing needs the apartments have at the moment.”

“Wait.” Keith sat forward, rubbing his temples as he fought off the headache brought on by the sudden stress that sentence had caused him, “You’re giving us chores because we showed up for your meeting?”

“Not at all lad!” Coran reassured, “The Association will merely meet here once a week to discuss what issues are most pressing within the apartment building and deciding what most needs to be fixed that week.”

“So we’re not expected to make the repairs ourselves?” The built girl asked.

“Not at all.” Coran shook his head, “I’ll be hiring someone to make most of the repairs, and all the actual expections will either be done my a professional or myself. You, as the Association, merely need to bring the week’s most pressing matters to my attention.”

“Sounds easy enough.” His neighbor shrugs, “If you think our schedules will work out. Some of us might no have regular work schedules.”

“That’s unfortunate if it happens.” Coran shrugs, “But forgivable. They’ll simply miss that weeks chance to vote.”

Coran seated himself now, pulling a white envelop out of his pocket and placing it on the table, sliding it towards the center for everyone to see, “In this envelop is the money I’m willing to spend on the first repair project. You five, as the members of the Apartment Association, get to decide what is renovated first.”

 _That_  caught their attention. Each of the newly coined members of the association flickering their eyes over each other, before landing back on the table.

“Now.” Coran leaned back, folding his hands as he relaxed into his chair, “Don’t be shy. You lot have a lot of discussing to do.”

There were several moment of heavy silence as the four near-strangers turned to stare at each other, none of them wanting to be the ones who started, either out of nervousness, paranoia, or apathy, silence remained for a solid few minutes.

It was the built girl who broke shyly broke the silence, “Umm…the pipes could use some repairing. I’m sure they’re rusted through.”

“Excellent suggestion Miss…” Coran trailed off, stroking his mustache carefully, “Forgive me, I’m afraid I don’t know all of your names.”

“Shay…” The girl turned, a smile shyly spreading across her lips, “I’m Shay Balmora, and this is my brother, Rax.”

The boy beside her, Rax, growled softly in warning, “Shay…”

“Come Rax, there is no need for that.” Shay places a comforting hand on her brother’s shoulder, “We are all simply trying to better our lives here.”

“She quite right.” Coran hummed, “And no harm in sharing names, we’ll need to know them if we want to plan out meetings in the future.”

Keith neighbored hummed, stopping her chewing for a moment before speaking up again, “He’s got a point.”

Keith sighs, and the large man, who had yet to speak, shifted forward and answered with the deepest voice that the pale boy ever heard, “Antok.”

“I meant about the pipes.” The woman spoke, “The water’s brown in my room. My name is Plaxum though.”

“Nice to meet you Ms. Plaxum.” Shay nodded toward her politely.

“Oh, you’re sweet, I like you.” Plaxum nods.

“That’s two for the pipes then.” Coran hummed, still stroking his mustache, “Anyone else have similar concerns?”

“Stairs.” Antok spoke up gruffly, “They’re not safe.”

“We’ve had trips.” Rax nodded, “And I’ve stepped on risen nails many times. It’s not safe for children or the elderly.”

That left a tie in the voting and Keith as the only one who hadn’t spoken up with a concern yet, turning him into the tie breaker. All eyes turned towards him, and the pale boy felt an instant pang of anxiety start to crawl through his chest, spreading like a cancer beneath his skin. He wanted to sink down, but he resolved himself not to show weakness.

Stone-faced, Keith forced his body to stay still, not showing any weakness towards the crowd. He glanced at the envelop on the table, thinking hard about the decision he was about to make. Both of the concerns brought up were legitimate and needed serious work, but which one was the more pressing issue?

Ever pragmatic, Keith decided to go for the exactly that solution.

Keith hummed, leaning forward and folding his hands, “I think we need to take outside action into consideration here. Parents can monitor their children, and we can help the elderly, but there is nothing we can do to avoid the pipes. We all need showers for work.”

“So we’ll be working on the pipes first.” Coran nodded, “Excellent work everyone! I promise I’ll hire people to start working on them immediately.”

“What should we do about the stairs in the meantime?” Rax grumbled, crossing his arms, “Our grandmother has already been injured by them."

"We can fix them ourselves if nothing else.” Keith shrugged, “We can get some tools and I’ll beat the nails down myself in my free time.”

“I _have_  tools.” Rax shot back, “What we need is time and someone with the skills to renovate them. It’s not just the nails, it’s the wood and the steepness that’s concerning too, and the rail needs to be fixed.”

“It’s certainly not up to ADA standards.” Antok shrugged, and that’s when Keith met his eyes for the first time and realized the man was blind, making the him instantly feel like a dick.

“I can fix the rail.” Keith scratched the back of his head, his heart twisting guiltily at the choice he made, “I can help with the stairs as well, I just need someone to help me get the supplies to work on them with.”

“But that leaves us with another problem.” Plaxum decided to put in her two cents, “None of us would be living here if we had the money. My boss pays me well, but I’ve got medical bills to cover.”

“We also have two sets of stairs.” Shay put in softly, “And we’d have to fix both. That would take time for one person to do, and money we don’t have.”

“We could at least fix the rail and nail down the standing nails.” Keith sighed, resigned to feel like a dick for the rest of the week, “That would only take a screw driver and a hammer. It should tide everyone over until we can renovate the stairs for real.”

“That sounds acceptable.” Rax nodded, turning towards Keith, “Do you have anywhere else to be today?”

“No.” The raven haired boy shook his head.

“Then meet me at the staircase on the right side of the building after the meeting.” Rax nodded, “We’ll set to work on them.”

“Sounds good.” Keith agreed with a nod.

“Excellent! Most excellent work everyone!” Coran jumped up, clapping his hands together, “I knew the moment you all decided to take the time to attend this meeting you would all prove to be reasonable, thoughtful, and responsible members of this Association! I’m quite proud of all of you!”

Coran walked over towards Keith and Rax, placing a hand on both their shoulders, causing Rax to hiss and Keith to sink down a bit, “Especially you two! Way to take an active role in helping make the building safer! I couldn’t be more proud!”

Something warm bloomed in Keith’s chest, something he hadn’t felt since Shiro. It made his eyes tear up a bit, but he looked away before Coran could notice.

Luckily for Keith, Rax drew away Coran’s attention by speaking, “Unhand me!”

“Sorry about that lad.” Coran removed his hand from Rax’s shoulder, “I’m _just…so proud_  of how well this first meeting went! I’m looking forward to future meetings!”

With that, Coran began sniffing a bit. He turned around grabbed his envelop of money, and beat a hasty retreat,

“I best go call someone about those pipes!”

The rest of the newly minted Association sat, dumfounded, as their landlord fled the room. They waited a few moment before Plaxum finally decided he wasn’t coming back and stood, “Well, this has been nice guys, but I have to get ready for work. See you all at next week’s meeting.”

With that said, Plaxum walked away, sending one last wave over her shoulder before she exited the room.

“We best be going as well.” Shay stood up, “It was nice to meet you both, I hope we can get along.”

“You as well.” Antok nodded politely. Keith nodded too, unsure of what to say.

“You best meet me at the stairs.” Rax told Keith sternly, “I do not like when people go back on their word.”

“I’ll be there.” Keith promised.

“Good.” And with that, Rax and Shay both walked away, both having a quite discussion as they left.  
Keith was about to walk away too when Antok stopped him by grabbing his shoulder, causing the pale boy to jump a bit before turning towards the man, “Yes?”

“If you are going to the stairs, than would you mind assisting me?” Antok asked, his milky irises staring into Keith’s, “If it is not too much trouble.”

Keith hesitated, the guilt welling in his stomach for a moment, before nodding. “It’s fine. Like you said, I was going there anyway.”


	5. Smoothies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith finds himself in a confusing situation.

Working on the stairs with Rax would end up taking a few days.

The stairs were a _lot_  more damaged than Keith had thought. Living on the first floor, he wasn’t in the stairwell often, but now that he and Rax were spending their free time pulling rotten boards and screwing rails down, Keith couldn’t help but wonder how the _hell_  this building passed inspections.

Someone, somewhere, had to have bribed someone. Keith was absolutely convinced.

During that time he spent working, Rax and he hadn’t _exactly_  become friends or anything, but you can’t go through hell pulling apart termite ridden staircases and scrapping ten pounds worth of splinters from your fingers without building _some_  for of connection. Sometimes Rax’s sister would come and sit on the fixed stairs, reading a book or speaking with her brother. Sometime even asking Keith the occasional question. If he had to give his relationship with them a solid title, he’d say they were friendly aquatints that weren’t afraid to work together to try and make their building a _little_  safer to live in.

So when Shay came and offered him some lemonade while he and Rax were finally finishing off the last five or so steps in the building, well, he was kind of surprised.

“Here you go.” Shay offered them the glasses she poured, smiling down as they both took the offered drinks, “It’s not freshly squeezed, but this should cool you off. You’ve both been working so hard, and it’s so hot out…”

Keith could only stare dumbly at the nice glass with the yellow liquid and honest to god _ice_  floating inside, “Thank you.”

Shay beamed at him, smiling like he’d given her the greatest of compliments. It was quite the picture; this built girl in a yellow sundress and white sandals, with loopy earrings and a flower pinning her hair back. She was just so…pleasant. Just pleasant. It was strange, especially with her brother being so standoffish.

“Rax.” The girl turned to her brother, moving to speak with him, “I need to leave for groceries today, we have nothing for dinner tonight.”

The raven haired boy gently placed his drink on top the step he’d just finished, not quite willing to drink from the glass despite the girls kindness. He just…couldn’t.

“We cannot leave our grandmother alone.” Rax reprimands his sister softly, “Someone needs to stay with her the next few days.”

Keith turns his attention towards the next step, trying to give the siblings some privacy, checking to make sure the wood was safe before he stared beating the nails down. He lemonade pushed to the side, waiting in case he changed his mind about it.

“But Rax, I cannot go alone.” Shay replied to her brother nervously, poking her fingers together, her fingers looping around each other as a nervous tick, “I…I cannot.”

“And someone has to stay with our grandmother.” Rax finished.

Keith, for his part, finished the step and moved to the next.

That’s when Rax spotted him moving.

“Keith.” Rax’s voice is commanding, drawing the boy’s attention toward the pair of sibling. The brother started at the raven haired boy meaningfully, studying him before seemingly having come to a decision and nodded to himself, “You have proven yourself to be a reliable companion these last few days. Would you escort my sister to the groceries? If that is fine with you, of course, Shay”

Keith blinked.

_What?_

Was a few days enough to trust someone to walk to the store with their sister? He thought Rax was a bit more paranoid than that. Where had this sudden trust come from?

“That would be fine with me.” Shay nods, smiling shyly, “Keith has been a good friend to us these last few days.”

Wait…

When had _this_  happened?

Keith could only blink dumbly as the two siblings turned to gauge his reaction. He just…wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t sure how this happened, or when this happened, or that he was anything other than the guy that helped fix the stairs. So he just nodded dumbly.

“Excellent.” Rax nodded, “Our problem is solved.”

“Let me just go get my purse.” Shay smiled, bouncing away to fetch the object in question. Keith watched her go, confused as he sat on a fixed step, his lemonade still perched on the spot beside him.

“I thank you for doing this Keith.” Rax went back to finishing their work, moving towards the last step, sanding it down a bit when he found it too splintery, “Shay is rather nervous and cannot stand to leave the building alone.”

“Uhh.” Keith scratched the back of his head, still unsure how and when this all happened, “No problem.”

Shay returned, a small purse held delicately over her shoulder, bouncing down the stairs with a little smile on her face and a set of keys dangling from her fingers, “Are you ready to go Keith?”

“Yeah.” Keith nodded, a little uneasy by the ease with which these two had just sort of dragged him into this. He’s certain he could take Shay in a fight though, and he always has his knife hidden on them. He consciously followed the girl, keeping a few feet behind her as they make their way through the lobby and into the parking lot. Keith half expects Shay to head towards one of the few cars parked in the lot, but instead she walks up to a yellow moped decorated in yellow sunflowers.

He’d made a terrible mistake.

Shay threw open the seat of the moped and happily gave him a helmet decorated in smiley face stickers, “Here you go!”

Keith gingerly took the helmet, pretty sure he would rather do anything than get on the back of the moped. Not because he was afraid of riding it, but because he was pretty sure he couldn’t stand holding on to Shay long enough to get to the store. Even a handshake felt like a lot for him, so this was going to be…uncomfortable.

“Is something wrong Keith?” Shay frowned, noticing his hesitance, “Are you scared to ride?”

“No.” Keith shook his head, placing the helmet on and strapping it under his chin, unwilling to back out of the trip after held already agreed to it, even if agreeing to it _had_  been an accident, “Let’s go.”

Shay smiled, brighter than the sun, and put her own helmet on. She hopped onto the seat, starting up the vehicle, patting the seat as she waited for him to crawl onto the back seat. Keith hesitated again for a moment, but swallowed down the discomfort and sat himself on the back seat. He didn’t hold on around Shay waist, he just couldn’t, instead he gripped the bars on the back of the seat and held on tight.

Shay seemed to find nothing wrong with this and pulled off.

Riding to the store took a lot less time than walking, something Keith had already knew but never got a chance to experience before, and by the time the uncomfortable trip was over Keith couldn’t help but want a moped of his own just so he could save so much _time_  riding where he need to be.

Keith eyed to vehicle enviously as he slid off the back. If only he had the money to spare for one. It would certainly be cheaper than a car, and probably didn’t need the same amount of licensing, but he could barely put food on his plate.

Sighing in regret, Keith handed Shay the helmet. The girl took her helmet back and locked it into the empty space under the seat. She turned on her heel, purse settled across her shoulder,

“Ready?”

“Yeah.” Keith nods, hand subconsciously tabbing where his knife was hidden, checking to make sure it was there just in case.

Shay hums, moving to enter the story, Keith follows behind uneasily.

* * *

It had been about a week since Lance had read the file on his soulmate, and he found himself depressingly empty handed since then.

He hated to say it, but Pidge had been right. Not about Keith being a criminal or anything, from the sounds of what little Pidge had found on the guy he’d more been incredibly unlucky than anything, but she’d been right about him wanting to jump the gun.

It took all of Hunk’s good sense to talk Lance down from running out and sweeping Keith right off his feet, something he hadn’t been too grateful for at the time, but now he knows he owes the big guy a lot. He can’t just rush up to Keith, tell him they’re soulmates, and expect the guy to jump into his arms. He wanted to meet Keith properly, get to know him, shower him with gifts and sweep the guy off his feet.

Instead, Lance was sitting sadly in a booth at the ‘Smoothie King’, sipping pitifully at his MangoFest smoothie. Hunk was seated in the opposite side of the booth, he didn’t have smoothie of his own because Hunk just wasn’t a smoothie guy, trying to cheer up the Cuban.

“Come on man.” Hunk tried, gesturing outside, “Cheer up, it’s a beautiful day outside.”

Lance proceeds to ignore Hunk and sip his smoothie sadly. Ignoring the bigger guy’s attempt to cheer him up in favor of wallowing in self-pity. Which, okay, he was being dramatic here, but he’s impatient and it’s been a week. He’s been downright saintly in his opinion. Okay, that’s a lie, but still.

How’s he ever going to get anywhere with Keith if he hasn’t even _seen_  that guy since that night with he was saved from getting mugged?

“Am I doing the right thing Hunk?” Lance asked, pushing away the smoothie, his chin hitting the table, “Or should we forget Pidge’s plan and try to make this grow on it’s own?”

Hunk blinked, startled by the question, scratching the back of his head as he answered, “Well, gosh Lance, that’s a bit of a heavy question to suddenly drop on me.”

“Come oooooonnnnnnn.” Lance turned his head to face his best friend, chin still resting on the table, “You’re my good sense, you have to help me here.”

“Well…” Hunk trails off a bit, still scratching the back of his head as he tries to find the right words to explain his opinion on the matter to Lance, “I don’t know man. What we’ve been doing so far as been kinda creepy. I don’t know how I feel about…well…you know what? No. I don’t like that we’ve been stalking the guy.”

“We haven’t been _stalking_  him.” Lance throws himself up, voice becoming just a octave higher.

“What do you _think_  we’ve been doing Lance.” Hunk questions, dropping his hands on the table, “Dude, I got finding out what neighborhood he lived in, kinda, because you gotta figure out how to meet up with the guy _somehow,_ but I’m not comfortable with Pidge’s plan. I mean, it’s good if we want Keith to start coming to _us,_ but I dunno man…”

“What are you saying?” Lance leaned forward, desperately trying to get a clearer answer from his friend, “Come on man, I’m dying.”

“Lance.” Hunk says seriously, “I think we’re going about this the wrong way. Pidge is smart and all, but the way we’re going at this… we’re treating this like a science experiment. That’d probably be fine if this didn’t involve people, but this isn’t one of Pidge’s experiments, this is _your soulmate._ That means you’ve got to do this _your way.”_

“But I can’t just walk up to the guy and be like, “Hey, I’m Lance and I’m your soulmate!” That would never work Hunk, it sounds crazy even to me, and I’m one of the people in the know!” Lance exclaimed in frustration, his hands moving to emphasis his movements.

“Then _don’t_  do that.” Hunk tried, leaning forward, trying to make Lance see _sense,_ “Just walk up to the guy and treat him how you would treat anyone else you’d be trying to get a date with. He’s your soulmate for a reason Lance, that means he’d probably respond best to what you would _naturally_  do, not some stupid plan.”

“I tried that.” Lance responds bitterly, looking back towards his smoothie and taking a comforting sip before responding again, “He ran away from me Hunk.”

“He was probably scared Lance.” Hunk replied patiently, taping his fingers against the table rhythmically, “Look, from what I’ve we’ve gathered so far, this guy has had it rough. Like, _really_ rough, and he probably didn’t know what to do with that situation. It doesn’t help that you almost got _mugged_  before that Lance. From his perspective the whole thing must have seemed sketchy. You just need to meet up with him again under better circumstances and _be yourself_  and wait for a bond to grow.”

“And how am I supposed to do _that?”_ Lance asked pushing his smoothie away again, eyes locked on his best friend, “It’s not like I know where he hangs out Hunk.”

And that’s when the bell to the smoothie shop rang, and Lance’s soulmate walked through the door.

* * *

Shopping with Shay hadn’t been the phenomenal disaster Keith had expected it to be.

The whole experience felt surreal. Walking through the stores with Shay, grabbing boxes of food off shelves, reaching to grab what she couldn’t reach. It all felt so…normal. He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

His hand kept coming back to his knife, expecting Shay to suddenly turn on him and reveal this was all a trap, that there was a gang others waiting form them out in the parking lot, armed with bats and weapons, ready to beat him down and take what little money he had.

But that never happened.

Instead, Shay just hummed happily as she paid for her purchases, opening a little book of coupons to help her shave the price a bit, and grabbing her little bags happily. It wasn’t much stuff, and the two of them only ended up carrying a single bag in each hand.

There was no one waiting for them out in the parking lot.

“I can’t thank you enough for helping me Keith.” Shay replied happily, placing her bags carefully inside the compartment under her seat, “You don’t know this, but having you here helped me a lot.”

“Um…sure Shay.” Keith replied slowly, simply unable to understand the situation, “…no problem…”

Shay beamed at him with that bright smile that looked like the sun itself couldn’t shine brighter, and she just seemed so…weirdly genuine, “You’ve been such a good friend to Rax and I these past few days. I can’t tell you what it means to me. Rax doesn’t have the easiest time communicating with others, and it means the world to me that you’ve helped us like this.”

_Friends._

Honest to god, no question, this girl genuinely considered him a _friend._

It was such a strange and foreign concept to him that he couldn’t quite believe it even when all evidence pointed to the idea being true. He kept his guard up, checking around for a group of muggers to suddenly pounce out of nowhere, even in this busy parking lot. Then again, this trip wasn’t over yet, and Shay could drive him _anywhere_  before they went home.

“It’s such a nice day.” Shay commented, holding her hand out, as if to test the warmth of the sunlight against her skin. He smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling, “I have a little extra spending money on me this week, let’s go get a smoothie.”

She gestured at a nearby smoothie store excitedly, already reaching for his hand so she could drag him there. He stopped her though, pulling back a bit, “I don’t have any money.”

“Don’t worry, it’s my treat.” Shay turned to face him, “As thanks for coming out here with me today. I wasn’t lying about this meaning a lot to me.”

“You don’t have to do that Shay.” Keith shook his head, “Don’t waste your money on me.”

“I _want_  to Keith.” Shay insisted, leaning forward, “Please, let me repay you a bit for everything.”

Now Keith was _sure_  that this was some kind of trap, and that the moment he walked into the smoothie joint he was going to be attacked. Still…she was just _so sweet,_ it was hard to not want to believe her.

“Fine.” Keith sighed, giving in, but readying himself for an attack at any moment. He wasn’t about to trust her that easily, but it wouldn’t hurt to give her a _chance,_ would it? He promised himself he was going to try and make his life better, and if this girl was serious than this would be one step closer to being an actual functioning human being, “I’ll go.”

“Oh! Thank you Keith!” Shay perked up tremendously, “I promise you can get anything you want.”

“Alright…” Keith nodded, still uncertain, flowing the girl as they walked across the street and into the store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For questions, comments, or requests please follow me at my Tumblr @ [msbluebell](http://msbluebell.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	6. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith finds smoothies to be a bit too flavorful.

Keith walked into the smoothie shop with Shay and knew almost immediately that he was out of his element. There weren’t many people in the shop, and a brief overview of the floor showed there were a total of only four other customers, but that didn’t help him at all. The air was cool from the AC, and it smelt so strongly of fruit that he was instantly overwhelmed.

He’d _never_  had a smoothie before, so when Shay walked him up to the counter and he saw the _huge_  menu of the cashier’s head he almost panicked.

“Get whatever you want Keith.” Shay hummed, looking over the menu herself, “I’m going to get something with strawberries.”

Keith nodded, gulping slightly, as he looked over the menu. Thankfully, it separated the types of smoothies by subcategories, like whether it was sweet or healthy. The pale boy looked down at himself, taking note of how malnourished he was before deciding it was probably best to get one of the “Wellness Blends”.

He looked back towards the menu studying the options from the subsection he’d decided to choose from. The amount of choices was still a bit intimidating, and he wasn’t sure _which_  one looked most appealing, so he picked the one that at _sounded_  most healthy, “I’ll take the Immune Builder Mixed Berry.”

Shay nodded, turning towards the cashier, “And I’ll have a Banana Berry Treat.”

The cashier nodded dispassionately before ringing them up and moving to make them their smoothies.

Keith turned to find some free seats, away from the other costumers. There were only two tables occupied, both booths near the leftmost side of the store. So Keith decided a booth on the right side was for the best and moved to settle in the nearest one.

Shay joined him a minute later, settling across from him in the booth and sliding him his darkish pink drink, sitting back against the seat and sipping on her own smoothing before shooting him a smile, “Hmm, it’s been a while since I’ve had one of these.”

“I’ve…never had one.” Keith states, pulling his drink closer and eyeing it, trying to gauge what the flavor would taste like from the color and smell alone. He couldn’t remember what berries tasted like, it had been so long, and he can’t remember if he liked them or not.

“Really?” Shay gasped, pulling the straw away from her mouth and leaning forward, “Keith! Why didn’t you help me? I could have helped you find something you would like.”

Keith swallowed a bit, sinking into his seat a bit. He didn’t have the heart to tell here it was because he had been to _nervous_  about the whole thing. He was insecure about his lack of knowledge about these sorts of things, and he just _didn’t_  feel comfortable talking for too long. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like still standing at the menu while Shay probed him with questions about his tastes when he just _didn’t know_  if he liked strawberries or bananas. He couldn’t remember anything he’d eaten that wasn’t fast food or out of the trash.

“It’s fine.” Keith said instead, pulling the drink closer to himself, “I need to try new things and whatnot.”

He takes a sip of the smoothie and is almost immediately overwhelmed by the strength of the flavor. He gags a bit, but is able to force down the drink, taking the straw out of his mouth and coughing a bit as he tries to get used to the fruity taste on his tongue.

“Are you alright?” Shay sits forward, clapping him on the back as he catches his breath.

“I’m fight.” Keith coughs, beating his chest a bit as he settles his throat, “I’m just not used to something so…flavorful.”

“Do you need me to get you some water?” Shay frowns, looking towards the counter, “Because I can.”

“No, I’m fine.” Keith pulls the smoothie closer to himself, determined to get this free meal down, “I need to get used to things like this at some point.”

Shay frowns at him, staring at the drink as Keith sticks the straw more near the back of his throat, where he wouldn’t be able to taste the smoothie as much as he drinks. She watches him for a moment, neglecting her own smoothie as he slowly drinks his own. It take her several moments to speak, “Keith…when do you eat?”

“When I get hungry.” Keith shrugs, and it’s not _exactly_  a lie, he eats every night just before bed. It’s the only time he eats, but it’s still more than he’s used to, and he goes to bed feeling full every night.

Shay doesn’t seem any happier with his answer, but only goes to drink her own smoothie, watching as he slowly works his way through the drink.

He’s only half way through before his stomach starts to feel full, but he keeps drinking, because he knows this is probably the healthiest thing he’s eaten in years and he needs it, and because he needs knows that he won’t always get food like this and needs to eat it while he can.

By the time he’s done he’s half sure he’ll throw up, but he keeps it down and forces himself to set back and digest the smoothie a bit while Shay works through her own.

The girl hums as he drinks, still watching him with a look he can’t properly identify, “This smoothie is good.”

“Mine was strong.” Keith sighs, “I definitely need something milder if I ever come back here.”

Shay hums, “I’m glad you came with me Keith. Rax never wants to get smoothies with me when we go out.”

Keith hadn’t wanted to either, because this whole thing felt so surreal and strange that it was almost dreamlike and unnatural. He didn’t know what to do with himself or what to say, and he found himself gasping loosely at whatever strings of conversation the girl across from him dangled.

“I don’t go out often either.” Keith admits, seeing no harm in the little fact, “Unless it’s for work or school, but I finished all my classes not long ago and don’t go back for a few weeks.”

“Oh! So you’re in school?” Shay perked up, “I’m studying geology.”

“Welding.” Admits attentively, suddenly feeling a bit ashamed.

 _“Oh._ That’s impressive.” Shay smiles at him, “Welding sounds very hard.”

“Not really…” Keith trails off, “Your degree is much more impressive.”

“If I can even get a job.” Shay sighs, pushing her smoothie away a bit, “I can’t even leave the house on my own. I’m starting to think I should quit and find something else.”

“Don’t.” Keith advises her, “You already started working for it, you might as well finish. You just need to work yourself up to finding a job and settling that into your routine. This me, it helps.”

“You think so?” Shay plays with her straw, “Because I don’t know what to do.”

“Trust me Shay, you’ll get used to it.” Keith hums, “You’ll just go to work and go straight back home. Just pretend everything in between isn’t happening.”

“I guess…” Shay tails off.

“It’s better than being homeless.” Keith hums, “Just tell yourself that the whole way to your job and you should be fine.”

“That’s…not very helpful Keith.” Shay bites her lip, looking slightly worse at those words.

“It helps me.”

* * *

Across the room, Lance was having an all out panic attack.

He was not ready for this, he was not ready for this, _he was not ready for this_.

 _“Hunk.”_ Lance his through his teeth to his friend, ducking down and turning on the bigger man with widened eyes, “Hunk _he’s here.”_

“Hmm.” Hunk barely acknowledged his panicking friend, too busy keeping his eyes locked on the girl that walked in with Keith.

 _“Hunk.”_ It took all of Lance’s power not to shriek, “ _What do I do_?”

“I-I…” The Samoan turned towards the brunette, “That’s my _soulmate.”_

 _“_ _What?”_ Lance did shriek this time, causing the other costumers, including _both_  of their soulmates, to look over at them. And the moment Lance realized that the two were looking over at them like they were crazy people he wanted to die.

 _“Dude.”_ Hunk was having his own mild panic attack, “ _I don’t know what to do anymore_.”

“Should we go over there?” Lance asked, trying to discreetly glance at the two as they turned their faces away and decided to ignore them, “What do we _say?”_

“We can’t go over there.” Hunk hissed back, “We’ll look like creeps!”

“We’ll what _else_  are we supposed to do?” Lance asked, standing up, “I’m going over!”

* * *

Keith knew something was going to go horribly wrong the moment he and Shay didn’t get out of there when some of the other customers started getting rowdy.

“I think we should go Shay.” Keith suggested standing up and moving from his booth, “Right now, before we’re dragged into trouble.”

It seemed his instincts were on point, but he and Shay weren’t about to get out of there before the ruckus causing other customer was sundering over to the with a cocky smirk.

“Hey there beautiful.” The brunette smirked, clicking his tongue and pointing finger guns at them, “Remember me?”

“Ummm.” Shay shifted awkwardly, hopping from foot to foot and not willing to meet the stranger’s eyes, shifting a little as she hid slightly behind Keith, “No.”

Keith narrowed his eyes at the stranger, feeling a ting of familiarity as he glared, but ignoring it in favor of defending the clearly uncomfortable Shay, “She’s not interested.”

The stranger blinks for a moment, clearly thrown off, before a look of determination paints his features, “Beautiful as you are, Ma’am, I’m afraid you weren’t the one I was talking to.”

And _that_  throws Keith off.

Violet eyes blink in confusion, trying his damnest to remember who the hell this guy was, _“Who_  are you?”

The stranger looks downright _offended_  now. “Uhh, the name’s _Lance.”_

Keith blinks at him.

The man frowns further, “You know, Lance, from the Blue Lion.”

And all at once recognition washed over Keith, the identity of the stranger becoming clear as day to him, “Wait a minute, you’re that creep that almost got mugged by Nyma.”

It must have been the wrong thing to say, because suddenly this guy was bristling like a wildcat, and all of Keith’s alarms were going off and telling him to get Shay and get the _hell_  out of this situation before the guy started getting out of control. He’s been in situations like these before, and they usually end with someone trying to beat the shit out of him.

Luckily, the guy’s friend ran up, grabbing Lance by the shoulder and stopping whatever the tanned man was about to say, “Lance, _what are you doing_?”

“I’m _trying_  to have a conversation, but this guy is being rude!” Lance cried, waving a hand towards Keith.

“You’re the one that walked up to us.” Keith said, backing away slightly in the direction of the door, Shay still hiding behind him. If things started to get too dicey than he could grab her and go.

“I was just trying to talk to you and you called me a creep!” The man, Lance, yelled indigently.

“Because _you chased me though the back alleys_. Sorry if I got some bad vibes from that.” Keith is still working on backing he and Shay out of the buildings, but the other customers have started staring at this point, looking concerned as they watch the events unfold.

“You did _what?”_ The bigger guy gapped, turning to his friend, “You didn’t tell me that? _What the hell man_?”

“I was _worried_  because you _ran off_  after you looked like you were going to have a panic attack!” The brunette defended, turning of Keith and huffing angrily, “Sorry I was concerned! I won’t make _that_  mistake again.”

“Good.” Keith snaps back, arm firmly around Shay now as he turns to lead her out the door, “My friend and I are leaving now.”

“Fine! Go on! See if I care!”

_“Lance.”_

Keith doesn’t stay to hear the rest, he rushes out of the door, arm still protectively wrapped around Shay as the make their way over to the moped across the street. He turns once the reach it, making sure they weren’t followed, only to see the bigger guy trying to rush out the door.

“Let’s go!” Keith hurries onto the back of the moped, urging Shay to hurry. She does, not even bothering with a helmet as she throws herself on and starts it up. They speed off just as the bigger guy crosses the road, ignoring his calls for them to wait.

They ride like that the whole way home, not stopping for anything less than red lights and stop signs until they reach the building.

They both jump off once they park in their building’s familiar parking lot, both panting as they realize what just happened.

“Oh my goodness.” Shay gasps, “I can’t believed that just happened!”

“I can’t believe that guy just walked up to up like that.” Keith panicked, pulling his hair, “Were we right to run? Was that the normal thing to do? Or was it overkill?”

“I don’t know!” Shay is panicking herself, “I panicked!”

“Me too!” Keith shouts.

They both stand there, panicking as they try to sort out _what_ just happened. Keith is the first to recover enough to ask more questions, “That guy was about to hit me, right? Guys like that are usually trying to hit me.”

“Oh my god.” Shay looks even more panicked now, “I don’t _know._ Keith, are you alright?”

“No.” Keith answers honestly, because it’s staring to get hard to breath right now, and his chest hurts, and he just wants to lay down on his mattress, inside where it was safe and he had a blanket and there were walls between him and flying fists.

“Keith? Keith!” Shay is holding him up now, “Keith, you need to breath.”

He’s trying, he’s really trying, but he can’t.

“I- We need to breath Keith.” Shay goes with him as the fall through the ground, and they’re holding each other up now, but Shay’s the only one talking, “We need to breath, we need to breath.”

Keith _is_  trying to breath, but it feels like the air he sucks in doesn’t actually reach his lungs. He gasps, hanging loosely on Shay as she hugs him to her chest, and he thinks she’s having a hard time breathing too.

 _“Good lord.”_ He hears Coran cry from somewhere, but it’s like hearing voices from underwater and everything feels so foggy and unclear, “What’s going on?!”

He doesn’t hear what’s said next, or how much time is passing, all he knows is that suddenly Antok is lifting him into his large arms and carrying him as Coran leads them inside. Rax is there too, helping Shay along, and they’re both plopped onto the couches in the sitting area with drinks of water shoved in their hands and blankets around their shoulders.

“I’m sorry.” Keith finds himself saying once he can breath again, pushing the water away

“No need to be sorry lad.” Coran reassures gently, “You just sit there and rest, we're here to help you both.”

* * *

Several hours later, one Lance McClain can be found face down on his desk at the Blue Lion, a half finished bottle of his finest whiskey opened and resting loosely in his hand. His arms crossed, his face is hidden in the crook of them.

He’s been crying for over two hours now.

“I fucked up.” He sniffs, turning his face up to look at the girl sitting on the couch beside his desk, tapping away at her laptop as he makes his confession, “I really, _really,_ fucked up.”

“I could have told you that one dumbass.” Pidge hums dispassionately, “And you’ve said that already.”

“I can’t believe I yelled at him.” The brunette whips away a stray tear, “I had one shot and I fucked it up.”

“I _told_  you.” Pidge grumbles, “I told you not to go in unprepared. And what did you do? You went in and freaked the guy, _and Hunk’s soulmate_ , out. Now he’s probably counting himself as one of your enemies.”

“I don’t have any enemies.” Lance sniffs again, trying to defend himself half-heartedly.

Pidge snaps her laptop closed, turning to glare at him as she waves a hand out the window of his office and towards the dancefloors below, “We had a short-lived drinking game based on how many enemies you have. It killed a man.”

“Pidge.” Hunk groaned from the other side of the room, himself drunk with a half bottle of Kahlua he poured over tons of icecream, “You’re not helping.”

“Severs you idiots right.” Pidge huffed, crossing her arms, “What were you thinking? Yelling is the _one_  thing you _shouldn’t_  have done.”

“I’m _sorry.”_ Lance buries his head in shame, “I’m _so_  sorry Hunk.”

“We’ll try again bud.” Hunk answered drunkenly.

Lance just sniffled.

“You two need to sober up.” Pidge sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I’ll call someone to bring you some bread and water.”

“Leave us alone to die.” Lance turns over, not wanting help right now.

“Shut up and let be a decent friend for a moment.” Pidge walks over, snatching the whiskey from Lance’s hold.

The Cuban give’s and offended “Hey!” and tries to reach for it, but Pidge has the advantage of being sober and get’s it well out of range while Lance is left leaning loosely over his desk. She walks up to Hunk taking his icecream and Kahlua, ignoring his own cries of protest as she walks away.

“You guys are lucky I love you.” Pidge grumbles as she walks out the door, off to fetch something to help them sober up and avoid hangovers in the morning, “Or else I’d leave you both to suffer for the stupid shit you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For questions, comments, or requests please follow me at my Tumblr @ [msbluebell](http://msbluebell.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	7. Stew

There were some days when Keith woke up and felt like he would rather die than move.

These were the days when he woke up and his limps felt too heavy to lift. His body was sore and his lungs felt too heavy to breath. Even his eyelids felt heavy on these days, and he felt crushed underneath the weight of how _empty_  he felt.

Getting up on days like this was hell. His whole body felt boneless and his motivation was lower than ever he as he forced himself up and crawled to his feet. Sometimes the only things that got him through those days was _constantly_  reminding himself that even this was better than living under the bridge.

That’s what this morning felt like, and the only comfort Keith was able to find was that he at least didn’t have to work today.

What had he been _thinking?_ He’d driven Shay into a damned panic attack. And for what? Because he’d been creeped out by a guy? Because he’d jumped to conclusions and rushed out of a smoothie shop? He’d acted like an asshole and now he was in a low and lost what was probably a budding friendship.

He felt pathetic, like the worst sort of shit in the world.

Keith curled in on himself, pulling the thin blanket around himself and burying his face into the mattress. It almost made him feel a little better, but nothing could stop how empty he felt.

He can’t say how long he was there for. It was dark in the room, with the only light being the small bits of sunlight that leaked in through the blinds on his window, but he couldn’t tell how long it had been. Time seemed to just creep by him, and he couldn’t tell the difference between a minute and a hour.

Eventually a knock sounded at his door. Keith made no move to answer it though. He stayed curled under his blanket, too tired to even try.

“Keith? Lad?” Coran’s voice called after another knock, “Are you quite alright? Ms. Shay wanted me to check on you.”

The pale boy felt his stomach roll, a new wave of sickness washing over him. Fuck, he didn’t deserve this kindness, not after how shitty he’d acted yesterday. If he had anything to vomit he probably would had, but he could only gag on his dry throat.

“Keith, lad, I know you’re home.” Coran knocked again, “Are you alright? Do I need to call a hospital?”

“No.” Keith groaned, knowing Coran couldn’t hear him. He didn’t want to get up, but fuck, he couldn’t afford hospital bills. He pushed himself up with _much_  more effort than the action should require, ignoring his dizzy head and the black splotches across his vision as he made his way over to the door.

He opened the door just after Coran gave another knock. The older man’s eyes widened when Keith silently poked his head out, blinking down at the young resident, “Good lord lad, forgive me, but you’re not alright.”

“What are you doing here Coran?” Keith managed, rubbing his eyes.

“The Apartment Association is meeting lad.” Coran frowned, “But I don’t think you need to worry about that right now. You most certainly need a visit to a doctor right now young man.”

“With what money?” Keith rubs his eyes before shaking his head, “I’m fine.”

“Lad, if you’re fine, than I’m the princess of Mumbai.” Coran leaned down, “Do you need help? I can certainly stop by with some soup.”

“Don’t bother Coran. I’m not worth it.” Keith shook his head again, moving to close the door, “I’ll be fine.”

“Keith, wait.” Coran reached out to touch his shoulder, causing him to flinch back. The older man froze, eyes widening before he pulled his hand back, “I’m sorry. But, Keith, I’m not sure I like hearing that kind of language about yourself. Would you please come out and talk about it.”

“No.” Keith shook his head, “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m just some screw up that can’t deal with his own issues and drags everyone else down with me.”

He moves to close the door again, but Coran stops it with his foot. The red-head’s face has become much more serious now, and he doesn’t look like he’s going to just let Keith go. “Keith, my boy, is this about what happened yesterday?”

Keith didn’t have the energy to say anything.

Coran shook his head, placing his hand back on Keith’s shoulder, ignoring the way the pale boy flinched at the contact as he opened the door wider and lead Keith inside. The man paused when he noticed the startling lack of furniture. The man’s eyes zeroed in on the mattress, his lips twitching in disapproval, and moved to sit the boy on the lone seat, “Stay here my boy.”

Keith didn’t have the energy to protest. He wasn’t comfortable with the man being in his apartment, but he was to tired to argue. Honestly, he didn’t care what happened anymore.

“Keith, lad, when was the last time you had something to eat?” Coran started, deciding to sit cross-legged on the floor.

Keith shrugged.

“Oh, _lad.”_ The older man sighed, “You need to eat something. You don’t look well at all.”

Keith shrugged.

Coran’s mustache twitched, “You know that…little incident…from yesterday wasn’t your fault lad. You can’t help anxiety.”

“I overreacted to nothing and drove an innocent girl into a panic attack.” Keith picked at his thumb, “I could have easily taken that guy, I didn’t need to get so defensive and act like that.”

“Maybe not.” Coran hummed, “I don’t know what the situation was, I can’t say whether or not you overreacted, but I _can_  tell you felt legitimately threatened.”

“I _shouldn’t_  have.” Keith hissed, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I should have kept my cool and handled the situation better.”

“Maybe, I can’t say.” Coran responded easily, “But I _can_  see you’re trying. I don’t know what’s going on lad, but I can tell that you’re trying. Whatever it is that’s haunting you, it’s not going to just go away in a day, and it doesn’t look like you’re getting any help. You can’t be expected to just be ready to deal with tense or triggering situations yet.”

“I don’t _need_  help.” Keith hisses, shaking his head, “And I’m not being haunted by anything.”

“We’re pack animals, lad, we all need help.” Coran hummed, twirling the tip of his moustache between two fingers. He met Keith’s eyes carefully, holding a steady gaze, “It’s clear to me that you _do_  need help lad, and no one _to_  help you. I’m willing to extend a hand, my boy, but I won’t force my help on you unless it reaches a point that I _need_  to.”

Keith sank into himself, not used to being chastised this way. He met the older man’s gaze, shirking a bit under the firm stare, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Coran replied firmly, “I won’t force my help on you lad, but you should at least admit when you’re not okay. I don’t know if you’ve seen yourself, but it’s clear that you most certainly are _not_  fine.”

“Why do you even care?” Keith dropped his gaze, “I’m just a resident, you don’t need to get involved in my business. You don’t get anything out of being involved in my life.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” Coran nodded, voice still firm, “I don’t have to get involved, and I don’t get anything out of it.”

“Then why _bother?”_ Keith shook his head, hissing a bit as a boiling shame filled his stomach, because there’s only ever been one reason anyone wanted to help him, and it never ended well for him when they tried.

“Because you need help, and I can provide it.” Coran answered, “There’s no gain for me, but there doesn’t need to be.”

“That’s not how it works.” Keith backs away a bit, scolding at the man, “I’m not an idiot, I know how this works. You just want me to owe you a favor. Well I’m not falling for it.”

“You have nothing I want lad.” Coran shakes his head.

“Right.” Keith spits, “I’ve heard _that_  before. I knew you were too good to be true. No one is that nice, especially not to me.”

Coran frowns deeply, moving to stand up a pit, “Keith, I think you’re falling back into what happened yesterday. Think for a moment, isn’t this how you ended up having a panic attack yesterday?”

Keith shakes a bit, backed against the wall, biting his lip. His body is tense now, his muscles aching and ready to leap away or fight as needed, his heart pupping, a snappish anger bubbling where before there was a void. It wasn’t quite to the level it was when he met Lance in the smoothie shop yesterday, but Coran had a point.

Keith took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down and get back into some form of level headedness. He didn’t dare take his eyes off Coran, but he took deep breaths until his muscles untensed.

“That’s right lad, breath.” Coran couched, “Deep breaths now.”

Keith did, following the instructions best he could, taking ragged and uneven breaths until his body wasn’t shaking and he was sinking back down onto the mattress. He wasn’t in fight or flight anymore, but a wary eye trained on the man in front of him, not willing to let his guard down.

“It’s okay lad, you’re okay, no one is going to hurt you.” Coran soothed, “Not so long as I’m the Landlord of this building.”

Keith shook his head again, “I’ve heard things like that before, and it usually doesn’t end well for me.”

“Keith, lad, I _promise.”_ Coran replies gently, “No one is going to lay a hand on another resident here without getting an eviction, least of all me.”

Keith bit his lip, wanting to believe, but unable to.

“It’s alright.” Coran sighs, standing up, “You don’t have to believe me, my boy, but I’m here to help you. I won’t pressure you, but my offer still stands, all you have to do is reach out.”

The red-haired man backs away a bit, putting some distance between himself and Keith, “Stop by my office any time Keith, I’ll be there if and when you’re ready to talk. I’ll tell the others that you’re not going to be attending the meeting this week.”

With those parting words the landlord walked silently out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

Keith exhales heavily, his body falling against the mattress as the darkness spread throughout the room again.

The exhaustion spreading through his body again as he lets himself fall against the bedding. He crawled back underneath the blanket, curling beneath it as he fell back into an uneasy rest.

What was _wrong_  with him? Coran was obviously planning something, he _had_  to be. No one was that nice, no one just wanted to help fucked up people like him for no reason.

The ravenette shook his head against the blanket, trying to rid himself of his confused thoughts.

* * *

Later, though Keith couldn’t be sure _how much_  later, there was another knock at the door, “Keith? It’s Shay and Rax. Can we come in?”

Keith cursed, having not gotten any rest and still feeling drained from his encounter with Coran. Still, Shay had been the person he’d wronged the most in all this, and he _definitely_  couldn’t just ignore her until she went away. After the shit he pulled yesterday he owned it to her to try and answer her when he called.

He had to at least _try_  at being less of an asshole.

So, for the second time that day, he forced himself out of bed and walked over to answered the door. He stumbled a lot more this time, the black spots swimming across his vision a lot more intense than before, a sure sign of his dehydration.

He opened the door to see the pair of siblings standing there nervously, Shay biting her lip as she held a plastic container in her hands. Rax, by contrast, was standing there with a paper cup with steam leaking out of the cup.

“Hello Keith.” Shay whispered, holding up the container up, “Coran said you hadn’t quite recovered from yesterday, so our grandmother thought you could use some homemade stew.”

“And tea.” Rax spoke, holding out the cup expectantly.

Keith blinked, taking the cup gently, but not moving to drink it. What kind of strange nonsense was _this_  now? Had they _done_  something to the food?

Shay handed over the tuber ware, holding it out until he hesitantly took that from her as well. He held it lightly, staring at the blue top, the food visible beneath it. He looked back up at Shay’s earnest face, not able to deny her, “Thank you.”

“It’s no issue.” Rax replied.

“We just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Shay spoke softly, “After how intense yesterday was…”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” Keith nodded, “I overreacted and messed you up…”

“Keith no!” Shay gasped, waving her hands in denial, “It’s not your fault you had an anxiety attack!”

“But I shouldn’t have acted like that.” Keith reasons, “There were a million ways I could have handled that situation, but I chose the worst one and escalated the situation.”

Shay and Rax shared a look between them, the two of them having a silent conversation of raised eyebrows and twitching lips before they turned back towards the pale boy. Shay was the one to speak, “You were scared Keith, no one can blame you for that.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t work on being better Shay.” Keith replied, “I can’t act like that and cause other people to have anxiety attacks.”

“You weren’t trying to hurt anyone Keith.” Shay comforted, “Having anxiety isn’t fun, I had it long before I met you, and it’s the reason I couldn’t go out by myself. What happened wasn’t your fault Keith, anxiety isn’t just something you can brush off.”

Keith didn’t have anything to say to that.

Shay shifted in place, trying to find something that seemed like a confident stance, “But we can cope with it. I have ways of coping if you ever need advice. We can…we can work on it together if you want.”

Keith blinks, flinching back with startled surprise.

“Just something to think about.” Shay bites her lip, “Get some rest for now Keith, and enjoy your soup.”

They left him there, leaving to go back to their own room, muttering quietly between themselves as the walked towards the stairway. Keith was left standing in his doorway awkwardly, hot drink in one hand and bowl of stew in the other, stuck in his own thoughts.

“Okay.” Keith muttered, staring at his food, not sure if he’d be able to eat it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who else is dead after season 6? XD  
> Sorry for being late and with such a short chapter, by the way, I had to recover from the season. I'm so proud of Keith.
> 
> For questions, comments, or requests please follow me at my Tumblr @ [msbluebell](http://msbluebell.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	8. Haircut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith decides it's time to get his life together.

Keith wishes he could say he ate the stew his neighbors made him, but that would be nothing short of a lie. The truth was he stared at the Tupperware for a good thirty minutes before he finally stared it into his refrigerator and went back to bed, uncomfortable with even the thought of eating it.

Going to work the next day was hell. He felt weak from hunger, and the pitiful sleep he had managed had done nothing to help. Getting through stacking his boxes felt like hell, and he’d never been so relieved to get off work.

Still, he had to walk home beneath blistering heat, sweat pouring down every surface of his skin. He whipped his brow, trying to shake off the dizziness in his head. Why did he have to live in the most southern part of fucking _Florida_  again?

Texas probably wasn’t much better, he reminded himself.

The sight of his apartment complex was as relieving as it had ever been. Keith hurried over towards the door. He pushed through the door, relieved to escape the harsh sunlight. He took a moment to catch his breath, whipping away a trail of sweat as he did.

Shit, did he stock up on shampoo?

No, he didn’t.

Keith groaned, mentally dreading the thought of going back out in the harsh head, and hating the thought of going back out into that hellish heat. It was almost as bad to think of the money he’d need to waste on cheap shampoo. It took a quarters hour of work just to buy one damn bottle of the cheap stuff.

The ravenette ran his fingers through his hair, testing how badly he needed shampoo. He winced when he felt how greasy everything felt. He wasn’t a stranger to greasy hair, but that didn’t mean he had to _like_  it. Plus, he had a job and school now, he couldn’t run around like a gremlin.

Keith sighed heavily.

“Hey Keith.” A voice greeted. The pale boy turned to see Plaxum, all glammed up and dressed like she was ready for a party. She wore a deep blue dress and a string of sparkly pearls, with dangly earrings and her hair done up with coral hairpins, “You look like hell.”

“I just walked from work.” Keith explained, “Careful out there, it’s in the upper nineties.”

Normally, Keith would have finished with that and walked away, set on getting back to his room or getting whatever he needed to do done. But, in light of recent events, he decided that he was going to _try_  at this social thing. He was fidgety at best, a nerves wreak, but he needed to at least try to get his life together, and that meant working at talking to people.

This was his neighbor, she lived here, she was nice. He could do this.

“You…look nice.” Keith tried, examining the woman, “Are you going to a party?”

Plaxum blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback, but quickly recovering and giving a bright smile. He flicked one of her earrings, smiling brightly, “Yeah, my boss has been depressed or something lately. Now he’s throwing a special pick-me-up party. He’s made a whole event out of the thing.”

“Your boss?” Keith raised a brow, “Where do you work?”

“The Blue Lion.” Plaxum tapped her heeled foot, “I’m one of the water dancers there.”

Ah, so she wasn’t really a stripper. Or maybe she was? Did the dancing mermaids double as strippers? He’d never actually been inside the building, he just knew it was the most famous club in the city, “Oh, that’s…nice?”

“Thank you.” Plaxum smiled, “I decided I would head out a little early and get some shopping done first, but it sounds like that might be a bad idea.”

“I wouldn’t walk in this heat.” Keith shrugged, “It feels worse than it looks.”

Plaxum winched a bit, “No offence Keith, but you look like you’ve been put through a furnace. You reek sweetie.”

“I know.” Keith groaned, “I gotta go back out and pick up some shampoo. It’s going to be hell going back out there.”

“You out?” Plaxum hummed, “That sucks. Speaking of, what brand do you use? I’ve been meaning to ask for a while.”

“Store brand.” Keith shrugged, flushing a bit in shame.

Plaxum hummed, “That’s not what I expected. Your hair is so wavy and gorgeous when you’ve just washed it, I honestly thought you got premium brands.”

Keith flushed a bit, unconsciously grabbing a strand between his thumb and forefinger and twisting it between the two digits. That…was new. He was a stringy, wiry thing, and the last time someone had called him anything close to gorgeous had been a lot less…pleasant, “Uh…um…thank you.”

“Just telling the truth.” Plaxum shrugged, “Hey, I got some time, why don’t you let me give you a quick trim? I used to work in a salon before I became a mermaid, and I think I could give your hair the treatment it deserves.”

Keith fidgeted, uncomfortable with the idea of letting anyone so close to him with a sharp object, where they could so easily reach down and stab at his vulnerable neck. He almost turned her down on the spot, but he took a deep breath first, forcing himself to stay calm. His fingers reached to his back pocket, comforting himself with the thought of the simple knife waiting in his back pocket.  
He could take her if she tried anything.

He had to try.

“…Alright.” Keith shifted, “But…what about the shampoo problem?”

“I’ve got plenty.” Plaxum shrugged, “I can definitely share. A small sacrifice if it means I can finally get my hands on your hair.”

Keith frowned, “I like my hair long.”

“You head.” Plaxum shrugs, “I just want to style it, don’t worry. Come on, I’ll wash it and get to cutting. It shouldn’t take too long at all.”

Keith was more than a little reluctant, but gently reminded himself that he agreed to this. He followed the woman silently as she lead him to her room, check to make sure he was _actually_  following as she fiddled with her keys and unlocked the door.

Plaxum’s apartment was _much_  nicer than his. Hers had actual rooms, for one, and was cutely decorated with bright colors and fuzzy carpets. She also had actual furniture, with lots of blankets and throw pillows everywhere. Plaxum also had a lot of photos on the wall, some hanging from string lights, and others surrounding posters of mermaids and jellyfish.

Keith had to pause for a moment. It had been _years_  since he’s seen a room this nice. He shifted a bit, nervous as he suddenly became _very_  aware of his own rather mediocre room and sweaty body.

“Bath room is over here.” Plaxum gestures him over towards a cracked open door, kicking it in and flicking the lights on. Even her bathroom was much nicer than his, with a nice fish theme and fluffy matts. Keith couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing renting at a place like this.

She pulled a rolling chair into the bathroom, placing it in front of the sink and patting it, “Sit right here.”

Keith hesitated, staring down at the polished porcelain sink. Plaxum kept the place clean and tidy, all her products organized. He could see a sharp pair of scissors laying in a clear container, kept nice and tidy. Good for cleaning the blood off them, but she hadn’t moved the matts so if she _d_ _id_  try to something the police would find her.

The raven haired boy settled himself into the seat, body tense as he sank into the soft leather. Plaxum gave him a reassuring smile, moving and pulling out a large, clothe, _thing_  that she threw around his shoulders and buckled around his neck.

He tensed, suddenly aware of how awkward it would be to pull his knife if she tried anything.

“Right.” Plaxum nodded, “I’m just going to need you to lean back now.”

Keith nodded mutely, body still tense. He had agreed to this, it was his first step to getting better, he could do this. Plaxum is nice, a perfectly pleasant woman, and it was very sweet of her to invite him here.  
He leaned back, baring his neck to her.

“Right.” Plaxum nodded, turning on the sink and letting the water run through his hair. She moved out of Keith’s sight, the telltale sounds of curtains pulling back could be heard, along with the woman’s humming as she moved back into his line of sight.

“You’re going to love this.” Plaxum hummed, placing down a large, black, container next to his head. The woman hummed, taking a cup and soaking the rest of his hair before popping the lid to the container, “It’s the good stuff, I got it from Lush. It’s called “Big” and I’m convinced it could save even the worst hair. You’re going to feel amazing after this, and your hair is going to be _so_  gorgeous.”

She scooped a sizable amount, rubbing it through his hair as she massaged his scalp. She took her time, building up the suds and washing his hair seriously. Keith blinked, feeling his body relax as she continued. His eyes felt heavy, the tension easing out of his shoulders as he unwillingly relaxed under Plaxum’s care.

This felt…nice.

In that moment Keith because keenly aware that it had been a long, _long_ , time since anyone had touched him this long, and it had been eve longer since someone had just wanted to help take care of him. And that’s what this was, wasn’t it? In her own way Plaxum was taking care of him.  
Why?

Before last week Keith hadn’t even known this woman’s _name_ , and now he was sitting in her bathroom getting his hair washed and getting ready to let her stick sharp scissors next to his throat. What was he doing? He knew better than to do this. He had to get out of-

No. No, he promised himself that he was going to do this.

“Moving on to the conditioner.” Plaxum informed, soaking his hair as she grabbed a bar next to the black container. Keith almost found himself dozing off as she worked the bar through his hair, his heightened paranoia the only thing keeping him from falling asleep right in her bathroom.

“Aright Keith.” Plaxum hummed proudly, “I’m done, lean up.”

Violet eyes blinked open as the raven headed boy leaned forward. Small droplets of water hit the clothe of his shoulder, and Plaxum spun his chair around so he was facing the mirror. She toweled his hair dry, or at least damp, and fluffed the ends out a bit as she reached for the scissors, “Are you ready Keith? I’m just going to trim the dead ends and style it a bit.”

No, he wasn’t ready. He would never be ready, but he was going to sit here and let her do it anyway. He had a knife, he could disarm her, she could never fight in those heels.

“Yes.” Keith nodded.

Still, his body tensed as the woman brought her scissor closer to his neck, the lethal sound of snipping cold in his ear as a shiver ran down his spine. Plaxum was patient though, and simply gently took the ends of his hair, snipping at them and trimming the ends quickly and professionally, tiny bits of inky black falling to the off-white floor as she fluffed and styled his hair into something that wasn’t quite the split ended mess it had been.

“You need to gain weight.” Plaxum stated, not unkindly, just as an observation. “We’ll feed you up. Once your cheeks fill out and you don’t look malnourished your hair will frame your face nicely.”

“I’ll take your word on it.” Keith responded simply. He knows he needs to gain some healthy weight, but he doesn’t think it will happen any time soon. He’s got too many bills and not enough money in his paycheck.

“Yeah, you’ve got a nice jawline.” Plaxum says as she starts to towel his hair again, “And with long hair you could probably pull off masculine or feminine looks.”

“I’m wearing my work clothes.” Keith shrugs.

“You’ve got other clothes.” Plaxum snorts.

Clothes he found in the trashcan, but he doesn’t say it out loud. He’s embarrassed enough as it is, and he doesn’t want to draw attention to it.

“Speaking of other clothes.” Plaxum hummed, eying his uniform, “You need to shower after this. No offence, but even expensive shampoo isn’t going to cover the smell of sweat.”

“You _just_  washed my hair.” Keith grumbles as he pinches at the ends of his hair.

“Doesn’t do anything for your skin.” The woman flicked her towel away, leaning forward a bit so she was level with Keith’s shoulder, staring into the mirror as she studied him, “You know, with the right clothes you could look good even right now.”

“I’m sure any clothes looks better than a work uniform.” Keith replied simply.

The dancer unclipped the weird clothe thing from around his neck. Keith let out a relieved breath, his muscles relaxing at last. Plaxum shook out the drape, letting loose bits of his hair fall to the floor, likely deciding to clean up later as she put away the clothe.

Plaxum clicked her tongue, eyeing her work as she studied the way his hair fell around the jawline. Her eyes narrowed a bit as she pursed her lips, a look of dissatisfaction crossing her face, “I want to say you look much better, but you really need to get out of those clothes.”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but these are my nicest clothes.” Keith snorted, eyeing his sweat stained clothes, “It doesn’t get nicer than this.”

The woman did a double take at that, her eyebrows knitting together and lips thinning dangerously as she settled her hands on her hips, “Okay, no, that’s a crime if I’ve ever heard one. That shirt alone looks like it itches horribly.”

“There isn’t much I can do about that.” Keith replied, a bit affronted, “Clothes are expensive even at those second hand places.”

Plaxum seemed to catch herself, sheepishly replying, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Nicer clothes are required for my job and I guess I’ve just gotten used to seeing people dressed really well. I guess I’m there so often that it’s just…easy to forget where we really are sometimes.”

The woman look so disheartened that Keith couldn’t help the stab of empathy he felt for her. It must have been hard for her, coming from a upscale place like the Blue Lion to a place like this. Or maybe he was reading to much into it?

What was someone like Plaxum doing in this building anyway? She obviously made more money than most of the others did.

Keith shook his head, it wasn’t his business. He barely knew Plaxum, he wasn’t about to get into detail and obsess over her life.

“This may sound a bit weird, but I got some clothes left over from my ex if you want them.” Plaxum shifted a bit, fiddling wither her hands, “I was going to throw them out, because I don’t want to even _think_ of my ex, so if you want them you can take them. They might be a bit big on you though.”

Keith flinched back, “What?”

“You don’t _have_  to take them.” Plaxum reassured, “I’m not giving them to you out of pity or anything. I was going to get rid of them because I want to purge that guy from my life, and you need more clothes. I’m just as good throwing them out, but why waste them?”

It was a very pragmatic way of thinking, and it made a lot of sense. There was no point in her throwing out those clothes if he was right there and needed them. Still, it just felt _wrong_  somehow, like she was expecting something, like she was going to _try_ something. It was all at once sweet and patronizing, and he had to bite down his pride. He promised himself he wouldn’t do this. He promised himself he was going to get better.

“Alright.” He chokes out, nodding as he throat dries out and he’s forced to swallow a lump, “I’ll take them.”

The smile Plaxum gives him is near blinding, and for the first time in days he feels like he did something right. As the woman rushes out of the room, telling him to wait while she grabbed the clothes, Keith can only sit there and watch her. He wonders, for a moment, if maybe Plaxum isn't out to do anything, but the idea just seems so...wrong. A part of him was still insisting that this all had to be a trap somehow, that it was part of her plan, but he couldn't think of anything the woman could to to a box of clothes to hurt him.

She had a blade to his neck and hadn't done anything.

Keith felt his stomache curl.

Maybe Coran was right.


	9. Pajamas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith finally does right by himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Pidgeybug, who sacrificed herself to make Lance's Heartbreak Playlist. Rip BBell and PBug.

The Blue Lion pulsed with life as neon lights flashed across the dance floor. The DJ had the best heartbreak songs on standby, playing the most dance ready of the songs while people where high on the atmosphere. The lights highlighted the blue of the water tanks, making the mermaids inside stand out with their clashing colors.

There were drinks everywhere, in dancers hands and on tables. It was a drunk-worthy kind of party, and the pulsing of the music could be felt throughout the open room.

Lance McClain, the club owner, could be spotted in the VIP section of the room. The Cuban lounged lazily against the rounded couch. Normally, the tanned man would be the life of the party, out there reeving everyone else up and egging the partying on. It was rare to see his VIP section not overflowing with people, with his arms around whomever he deemed the special guests of the night. Tonight, however, his VIP section was empty. The brunette sat alone, his expression anything but joyous as he loosely swirled a drink his hand.

Looks like his pick-me-up party wasn’t working as well as he hoped, Pidge mused. In hindsight the heartbreak songs probably weren’t a good idea.

“Are you going to spend the whole night pouting?” Pidge asked as she walked up to the VIP section, settling herself in a seat next to her friend, placing her laptop on the table as she opened it and set to doing some _actual_  work tonight.

Lance huffed, deciding to ignore her as he turned away and continued to swirl his drink.

“You know it’s not the end of the world, right?” Pidge spoke, trying to get the Cuban to stop pouting for a moment, because this whole party was, frankly, ridiculous.

Lance just huffed again, his blue eyes roaming blankly across the crowds as he finally took a sip of his drink. Wow, this really was a next level of pouting on his part. His usual pick-me-up parties usually actually had him _partying_.

“Well McClain, this is a new low even for you.” Pidge poked him in the arm, “I want you to think _very_  hard about the songs you’re playing right now.”

 _'Miss independent_  
_Miss self-sufficient_  
_Miss keep your distance_  
_Miss unafraid_  
_Miss out of my way_  
_Miss don't let a man interfere, no_  
_Miss on her own_  
_Miss almost grown_  
_Miss never let a man help her off her throne_  
_So, by keeping her heart protected_  
_She'd never ever feel rejected_  
_Little miss apprehensive_  
_Said ooh, she fell in love_.'

To Pidge’s absolute fury, the tanned man merely reached over to the remote and pressed _that_  button. The blue button. The worst button in the entire building, the one that would destroy everyone’s eardrums and curse her to a week devastation.

 _‘Remember the feelings_  
_Remember the day_  
_My stone heart was breaking_  
_My love ran away_  
_This moment I knew I would be someone else_  
_My love turned around and I felt’_

Cascada, her sworn enemy.

“Alright.” Pidge glared at the still frowning club owner, “I change my mind, Kelly Clarkson is better than this.”

Lance made absolutely no move to change the song, the bastard, he was probably content to drag her down with him. This level of pettiness was beyond anything she could have hoped to achieve. She admired the technique, but she hated that he was using this newfound pettiness against _her_.

“Alright, I didn’t want to do this yet…” Pidge grumbled, pulling out her laptop, “But I have some good news for you.”

Lance huffed, not bothering to even look at her he watched the dancefloor, the party goers throwing away their inhibitions for the night and shaking against each other. It seemed he was being really stubborn tonight. The incident in the smoothie shop must have really shaken him.

“So you know that pet project that Allura and Coran are working on?” Pidge asked, pulling up an image of an apartment building on her tablet and sliding it over towards Lance, who gave the image an uncaring glance before turning back towards the dancefloor, “So?”

Good, an actual word, now they’re getting somewhere.

“Well, Coran was in charge of picking the building they would renovate.” Pidge tabbed the screen, blowing up the image and pulling up some facts about it for the brunette to see, “So I managed to convince him to pick this one.”

“And what does that have to do with anything Pidge?” Lance sighed, slumping further against the seat, “What does a shitty place like _that_  have to do with anything?”

“Give me a minute and I’ll tell you.” Pidge huffed, “Coran is, currently, overseeing the renovations for your soulmate’s apartment building.”

“ _What_?” That certainly caught Lance’s attention, the blue eyes blowing wide as he threw himself up to look at the tablet, “He lives in _this shitty place_?”

“Yeah.” Pidge shrugged, “I decided to kill multiple birds with one stone; Coran and Allura get to do their pet project, lots of people get helped, I get easy surveillance on your soulmate, _and_  I got some unexpected bonuses out of the whole thing.”

Lance shook his head, taking a deep breath, “Do Coran and Allura know about this?”

Pidge scoffed, “Of course not, Coran would have never agreed to that.”

Blue eyes blinked, shaking his head in disbelief, “Pidge…I don’t know about this. I’m down for tracking him, but I’m not sure how I feel about cameras in the guy’s bedroom.”

“What do you take me for? A creeper?” Pidge scoffed, offended, “The cameras are just around the building. I just want to make sure the guy hasn’t gotten stabbed on his way home or something. You’ve seen his building, it’s in the shit part of town, and I’m pretty sure he walks everywhere.”

“He _walks?”_ Lance hisses, “But this city is huge!”

“I _know_.” Pidge groans, “And he lives in the shit part of town.”

Lance’s eyes narrowed at the screen, seeming to glare at the building. He glare wavered after a bit, dying down as his frowned deepened. He sighed, slumping back against his seat and eyes falling on the dance floor again, “It doesn’t matter.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow at him, incensed, “What do you _mean_  it doesn’t matter? I didn’t do all this work for nothing you know.”

Lance, the bastard, pushed the blue button again. This time he was playing JoJo’s ‘Too Little Too Late’. Pidge was pretty sure she was going to murder him if this kept up. She forced herself to swallow her homicidal rage, turning to face the boy, “Lance, answer me.”

“I fucked it all up Pidge.” Lance took a shot from his whiskey glass, “I really, _really_ , fucked it all up. I _knew_  he was paranoid and I yelled at him anyway. He ran out of the store Pidge, I probably ruined any shot I had.”

“Oh my Goooooood.” Pidge rolled her eyes, “Lance, I’m not going to lie, you did fuck up, but not _that_  bad.”

“Pidge, _he ran out of the store_.” Lance shook his head, voice cracking a bit, “After I _yelled at him_.”

“To be fair, he called you a creep.” Pidge shrugged, “And, sure, you _were_  a bit creepy when you two first met, but he didn’t need to be confrontational about it when you two were in a public place.”

“Pidge.” Lance placed down his glass gently, “ _Who wouldn’t be confrontational about someone they thought was creeping on them_?”

“Alright, point.” Pidge shrugged, “But that still doesn’t mean you ruined your chances Lance.”

“Oh.” Lance quirked a brow, “They seem pretty damned ruined to me. You read Keith’s file, this would be bad if it was someone who _wasn’t_  horrifically paranoid, it’ll be ten times worse with him.”

“That doesn’t mean you’ve blown your chances.” Pidge shrugged again, leaning back in her seat and crossing her legs as she settled the laptop into her lap, wrinkling her nose at the dancefloor just to show annoyed she was with this whole party. She’d rather be at home watching Netflix or something, “Listen, Lance, you just need to talk to him and apologize.”

“And _how_  am I going to do that?” Lance sniffed, eyes on the mermaid tanks, “I’m pretty sure he’ll attack me if I get anywhere close to him.”

“I wasn’t saying he wouldn’t be hostile.” Pidge wrinkled her nose again, “He’s going to be angry and abrasive at first, that’s a fact, but you have to keep a cool head. Just try to be patient and apologize, maybe even try your best to explain yourself…maybe, but definitely don’t get defensive.”

Blue eyes blinked at her, not quite accepting of the advice, not being as suborn as he was.

Pidge sighed, “Look, I know it’s going to be hard, but you’re the one reaching out here. He doesn’t know you’re soulmates, and he doesn’t have any reason to want to be in your life yet, especially with the bad impressions so far. I know that you want to defend yourself and fight back when he insults you, but he doesn’t know there’s something to lose here. You’re the one with the context, so fair or not you have to be the one that swallows your pride and try to reach out.”

The brunette paused, pondering for a moment before taking a contemplative sip of his drink, settling his drink down before turning to face her again. He paused, hesitant for a moment, only speaking when he finally found the right words in his head, “What if it still doesn’t work? What if I apologize and try my best but he still doesn’t want to give me another chance?”

“Then you back off.” Pidge shrugged, “It’ll sting like a bitch, but people have a right to say no. Sure, he could turn you down and your relationship won’t go anywhere, but giving up before you try means that if _definitely_  won’t.”

Lance bit his lip, squirming a bit in his seat, “But…how am I going to get the chance?”

Pidge sighed, closing her laptop, because this was going to need all of her attention now. She pushed fiddled with Matt’s glasses, trying to remember a time when _she_  wasn’t the sensible person in the room, “I’m pretty sure I can arrange something.”

Lance frowned a bit, eyes flickering towards her tablet, “About that Pidge…I was talking to Hunk…and…well…he thinks that maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

“I wasn’t aware Hunk had a less creepy way of tracking people down.” Pidge leaned again the table, “Look, Lance, maybe if we didn’t know about soulmates things could have happened more naturally, but we do and I think that may be why things got fucked over for you, Hunk, and Allura. We need to take active steps to fix our situation.”

“What?” Lance blinked at her, “Are you saying that…if I didn’t _know_  Keith was my soulmate things would have gone better?”

“It’s just a hypothesis.” Pidge shrugged, “I’m not the expert, that’s Allura’s MO, but I think maybe you wouldn’t have creeped the guy out as much if you hadn’t known. Then again, maybe you would have been hostile to him because of the situation, I can’t know.”

“Then what’s the point of freaking me out like that?” Lance crossed his arms, huffing.

Pidge made a frustrated groan, “Look, I’m just trying to make sure you guys are actually able to meet up with your soulmates. Or do you want to end up like Allura and never be able to find them again?”

Lance frowned deeply at that, a wave of fear and empathy both washing over his features as he shrank in on himself.

“I thought so.” Pidge sighed, taking off Matt’s glasses and staring at them, wistful, “Look, I know this all seems a little much, but I’m just trying to do the best I can. What else do you want me to do? You and Hunk _both_  lost your chances at a good first meeting, so now we have to try and arrange something.”

The Cuban frowned, “But…cameras in his building?”

“How else was I going to find out where he goes Lance?” Pidge deflated, “I know it’s not the most legal solution, but it’s not like I could just pull up his address and let you knock on his door.”

Lance didn’t stop frowning, “But what if he finds out about all this? What then? _That_  will definitely ruin any relationship we build.”

“I won’t _need_  to survey the place one you actually start talking to him.” Pidge shrugged, “In fact, I might not even have to wait that long. Coran seems to be doing a better job than any of us developing a relationship with Keith, and he doesn’t even know yet.”

“What?” Lance flinched, _“Coran?”_

“Yeah.” Pidge shrugged, “You know him; he’s got a built in dad radar. He sees a sad person with a tragic past or parental issues and he just _has_  to adopt them.”

Lance’s lips twitched, a fond smile spreading across his face, “Or if he thinks they don’t take care of themselves.”

Pidge huffed, crossing her own arms, “The point is, he took one look at Keith and was all Dad Mode: Activated.”

Lance’s lips twitched again, but the smile fell when he came to a realization, “But…won’t that be taking advantage of Coran? I don’t want to use him like that.”

“We’re not using Coran.” Pidge shrugged, “We’re going to explain the situation.”

“Won’t he realize that you tricked him into helping follow around my soulmate?” Lance frowned, “Isn’t _that_  using him?”

“Maybe.” Pidge shrugged, “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“We can’t ever tell Coran.” Lance deflated, “He won’t forgive you.”

“I’m going to tell him.” Pidge shook her head, “I have to take responsibility for my actions. Will I lose his trust, yeah maybe, but its still something I have to face. Unlike Keith, Coran can, will, and is going to find out about this. It’s better for me to come clean.”

Blue eyes flickered over Pidge, “Then why’d you do it in the first place?”

Pidge shrugged, her thumbs tracing the rim of Matt’s glasses, “I couldn’t think of another way. Allura lost her soulmates, and nothing she’s tried worked yet, so I’m doing what I can. I don’t know if I’m being selfish and petty or selfless and sacrificing, maybe it’s a bit of them all, but I felt like it was the only way.”

Lance felt his stomach drop. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, trying to bottle down the mixed emotions threating to spill out. It was easy to forget that Pidge was deeply affected by this, had lost a lot, still had a lot of hope she could still lose. He reached out to squeeze her shoulder, hoping to comfort her, even if just a bit.

Pidge shook her head, “I didn’t mean to do this.”

“I know Pidge.” Lance squeezed her shoulder.

“Go talk to your girls, Lance.” Pidge pulled away, standing up, “They’re wondering where you are. I’m going home early tonight.”

“Will you be okay?” Lance asked, not wanting to push, but still wanting to make _sure_.

“Yeah.” Pidge nodded, “Now go talk to the mermaids or something. This is your party, after all, and they’re starting to worry.”

The girl leaves without another word, the sounds of early two-thousands pop seeing her off.

Fuck Cascada music.

* * *

After years of wearing cheap jeans and sleeping on concrete, stepping out of the shower and putting on pajamas felt _strange_.

Keith, since he was already pampered today and had an overstuffed box of new clothes, decided to use his salt scrub while he showered. He washed down his face and neck, using the good stuff to clean himself while the water washed away sweat and grime.

He stepped out the shower and dried himself slowly, body clean and freshly shaved as he pulled his new clothing closer to himself, the cotton soft against his fingers. The pajamas weren’t anything fancy, just a black T-Shirt that was way too big for him and grey pajama pants that buttoned in the front and had deep pockets. The shirt hung off his shoulders loosely, not actually covering much, but it felt soft against his skin, and the pants held themselves up with clothe covered elastic and fell loosely around his legs.

He felt so _clean_  right now.

Keith takes a hesitant step out of his bathroom. He’s reluctant to walk across his less than perfect floor with his calloused feet and ruin the perfect feeling of cleanliness, but he needs to make his way into the kitchen. So he swallows his reluctant down and forces himself to walk towards the kitchen.

There had been special preparations he’d made today, since this was his big night of pampering, and there had been special steps he’d taken to ensure he had the best night possible. So on the kitchen table, trapped in a cage he’d found in the garbage, were four mice. The mice were struggling, trying their best to get out of the cage, scrambling in fear as he approached. He watched them for a moment, eyeing them as the four huddled into the corner as if they could actually understand what was going on right now.

Keith shrugs, moving towards his refrigerator, opening it and reaching for the untouched stew. He sets it down on the counter, flicking on his stove and moving to place as small pot onto the down, spilling just enough for a bowl. He takes his time, stirring with a metal spoon, slowly reheating what looked like beef and vegetables.

When was the last time he had real meat?

The kitchen soon filled with the smell of warm stew, the inviting scent making his stomach growl loudly, mouth watering as the heat enticed him. He takes the pot off the stove, pouring the food into a bowl and flicking off the stove.

It’s tempting, especially since he hasn’t actually eaten since the smoothie incident, but he’s not ready yet. He grabs the bowl carrying it over towards the table where the mice are waiting in their cage. Sitting slowly, pale hands place the bowl down on the table carefully. Fingers grip the spoon delicately, gathering up a decent amount of stew and holding it up to his lips to blow, cooling it enough to be acceptable.

Violet eyes glance back towards the mice, eyeing their huddled forms, “Alright, here’s how this works. I rescued you from living in the trash and running from cats. All I’m going to ask in return is that you test out my food before I eat it.”

The mice blinked their beady eyes at him, staring and unhuddling as if the could actually understand him. Keith wrinkled his nose, pretty sure that it was just his imagination. He opens the food latch, emptying the spoon into the small food bowl, scooping more and more until there was enough for the four mice.

The mice gather around the bowl slowly, sniffing at the offered food before slowly taking bites of it. Keith watched them, waiting for several long minutes for any signs of roofing or poison. If there was anything in the food then it was slow acting, because nothing happened. The mice simply finished their food before falling against the loose cotton Keith had gotten them for a bed, nestling against each other for warmth.

The pale boy watched them, making sure they were still breathing before he _dared_  to scoop his own spoonful of stew. He held it up to his lips, hesitating for a land while before he slips it into his mouth.

It’s warm. So warm and flavorful that it makes tears spring to his eyes. He freezes for a bit, not knowing what to do, and it’s a lot harder than it should be to swallow the food down. He drops the spoon in the bowl, burying his face in his hands as he tries to hold back his sniffing, elbows on the table and tears staining his cleaned face.

There’s a squeak, and Keith turns his face to meet the mice. The little critters are staring at him, almost like they’re concerned.

“Its delicious.” Keith sniffs, whipping away the tears. The mice stare at him as he shovels more food in his mouth, forcing himself to eat while his body shakes. He’s a mess, swallowing homemade stew at his table while a bunch of mice watch him fall apart because of warm food of all things, but he can’t find it in himself to care right now. He finishes the whole bowl, pushing it away as he breaks down right there at the kitchen table, his stomach full with warm food for the first time in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance's Heartbreak Playlist for those interested:
> 
> 1\. Leave (Get Out) By JoJo  
> 2\. Badboy by Casada  
> 3\. Miss Independent by Kelly Clarkson  
> 4\. Too Little Too Late by JoJo  
> 5\. Complicated by Avril Lavigne  
> 6\. Every Time We Touch by Casada  
> 7\. Beautiful Soul by Jessie McCartney  
> 8\. Evacuate The Dance Floor by Casada  
> 9\. Ain't No Other Man by Christian Agullera  
> 10\. Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson  
> 11\. No One by Alicia Keys  
> 12\. Mr. Brightside by The Killers  
> 13\. U + Ur Hand by Pink  
> 14\. Here Without You by 3 Doors Down  
> 15\. Lips of an Angel by Hinder  
> 16\. Broken by Seether  
> 17\. Faraway by Nickelback  
> 18\. Better Than Me by Hinder


	10. Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith gets a surprise.

Keith’s welding classes began less than a week after he’d broken down and started working through the stew Shay had brought him. Which was good, because he found that he needed the extra energy he got from the food with his suddenly _much_  busier schedule.

The classes ran late into the night, until about ten, but he would be done much sooner than later thanks to the late hours. Keith found himself settling into a schedule of working and then immediately attending his classes, usually changing from his work clothes into overalls in the bathroom at the school. Sometime halfway through the class the teacher would let them break for lunch for thirty minutes and then they’d finish up whatever they were working on that day.

After class Keith would begin his long track home. The darkness made it hard to walk home, and the bad neighborhood he lived in certainly didn’t make him any safer, but Keith had years of experience walking the dark streets and the few times someone tried something usually ended with the other guy having a broken hand.

Tonight wasn’t a night he thought was going to bother him. It was heavy tonight, humid in the way that most costal towns were, but with the extra electricity that signified an upcoming storm. He’d have to call risk calling a cab or something in the morning, but for tonight he felt safe. The heaviness of the air would newer muggers, the only ones who would think to go after a poor target like him.

The pale boy swept the beads of sweat from his forehead. The humidity was making his already too fluffy hair to frizz horribly, and it wasn’t helping the heat building beneath his skin. Texas had never felt like this. Texas had been nice and dry, still hot, but not nearly as humid.

At least he was halfway home now.

For now though, he had to deal with the most difficult part of his journey home. The street was pulsating with life tonight. It was normal for the Blue Lion to bring a feeling of over crowdedness to this part of the route, the muffled music pulsing through the concrete sidewalk even when the sound couldn’t be heard. Even on the weekdays large crowds could be made out through its glass walls. It wasn’t nearly the number there would be on weekends, but it was still intense, especially since it was still summer.

Keith was hesitant to go near the building for that reason alone, especially after they incident with Nyma, but this route was the fastest way home. So, with only a little hesitance, he worked his way down the familiar back alleys. The last few nights of his classes he’d kept his head down, darting through the narrow walkways with his head down, tonight was no different.

Everything was dark, but there were no rich assholes from the club working for a quick back alley fuck tonight so he wasn’t too worried. The people rarely ever noticed him, but it was nice to walk freely and without having to try and ignore moans. Keith’s mood eased considerably, his shoulders relaxing as he made his way down the dark alley without hindrance. It was a good sign when the most stressful part of his walk turned out not to be a problem at all.

So, of course, something had to go wrong.

The back door opened with a load shriek, and Keith groaned as he realized that he’d have to dance around a couple after all. He mentally prepared for that, tensing and upping his pace.

He didn’t hear any moans, but there was a sharp intake of breath. He didn’t stop though, hopeful that he would escape before he accidently became a voguer to some couples explicit activities.

“It’s you.” A voice sounded, and for a moment Keith thought the guy who said it must have been talking to a girl in his arms or something, it was only when that same voice called out for him to wait that the pale boy realized that they were calling out to _him._

With more than a little reluctance Keith turned around.

Violet eyes met blue.

Keith’s breath hitched as he locked eyes with the guy from the smoothie shop. He hadn’t ever expected to meet the guy again, he honestly hadn’t, but now here he was in his fancy clothes and tussled hair. Wide blue eyes locked onto the pale boy, shocked and studying him as the tanned not-stranger’s fingers twitched.

Keith shifted, not sure what to do. He still didn’t feel comfortable around the guy, not at all, but he also knew that he’d flipped his lid at the guy a few weeks ago and rushed out of the smoothie shop like a madman. He wasn’t sure where he stood with this near stranger, and he definitely didn’t know what he should _say._

The guy from the shop, Taylor or whatever his name was, stepped forward. Keith shifted a bit, throwing a quick look back down the alley way that would just be _so easy_  to escape down, but he’d promised himself that he was going to get better, _be_  better. He’d hear what this guy had to say and be done with it. Resolved with his decision he turned violet eyes back on the brunette.

The guy didn’t look like he knew what to say either, his hand reaching out like he wanted to stop Keith if he decided to bolt, but he didn’t move closer. His blue eyes flickered over Keith’s body, studying every inch of the slightly shorter boy as he tried to figure out what to say.

The brunette finally resolved himself, straightening up and stepping forward with a look of pure determination painting his features, “I’m sorry.”

Keith flinched back, blinking as his eyebrows knitted together in confusion, “What?”

“Do you remember me, from the smoothie shop?” The tanned man took another shy step forward.

Keith nodded silently, eyeing the man as he stepped foreword.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you.” The brunette stopped, squaring his shoulders, “I should have kept my cool. I know I acted like a creep, and I’m sorry.”

Keith shifted again, not comfortable with the conversation, and more than a little unsure what to do with it. People…people didn’t apologize to him. Especially not people who had been aggressive.

What was this guy planning?

No. Keith shook his head. He had to stop this. He’d promised he wouldn’t do this. He’ll hear the guy out and then leave. He could do this. He could.

“I’m sorry too.” Keith spoke, forcing himself to meet the brunette’s eyes, “I shouldn’t have ran off like I did. That wasn’t cool.”

“Hey, man, I get it.” The tanned man raised his hands in a gesture of peace, “I’d get out of there if I was you too.”

Silence fell over the two of them after than, tense and thick, neither of them knowing where to go from there. It was clear the guy wasn’t done talking, but Keith didn’t know what more there could be to say. The tanned man found his words again after a moment, taking another, more confident, step foreword once he’d decided.

“I’m sorry for chasing you too.” The brunette bit his lip, “I can get a little intense sometimes. I was just really grateful that you helped me out and wanted to thank you. I should’ve backed off, or shouldn’t have come on so strong. I definitely shouldn’t have chased you, I’m sorry about that by the way, I wanted to explain I wasn’t being a creep and I just…came off wrong…”

The brunette deflated a bit, head bowing in defeat, “Thank you for helping me.”

Violet eyes flickered over the tanned man, his slumped shoulders and suddenly disheartened face. He sighed, feeling his own heart pound worriedly as he took a step forward, “Its alright.”

The guy peeked back up, eyes trained on Keith’s face.

“Look…” Keith scratched the back of his head, “I’m sorry I was so…abrasive…I’m not used to people…and I guess I could have handled the situation better than running off like that. I didn’t mean to make you feel like an asshole or anything, I just…”

Keith gestured vaguely around him, “I’m not even sure what’s happening right now.”

The brunette’s lips twitched, an uneasy smile working on his face, “I’m apologizing for being a dick.”

The raven headed boy made a frustrated noise, “That’s not what I mean. I…I…”

He gave up, crossing his arms over his chest defensively, shoulders slumping a bit as he curled in on himself defensively. The humid air was heavy around him, weighing down on his body, making his pale skin feel sticky and uncomfortable. He was filthy, and tired, covered in the grime of work and welding.

“Hey, its okay.” The not-stranger soothed, taking another step foreword, reaching out like he wanted to touch

Keith, “We’re just two guys trying to make up for our fuckups.”

Keith shook his head, his empty stomach lurching a bit.

“Hey, buddy, we’re cool.” The brunette was finally close enough to touch him, but he didn’t, conscious of Keith’s growing anxiety, “Do you need to sit down? Should I get you some water from inside?”

The ravenette shook his head, stomach twisting at the idea of a stranger giving him a drink from inside a _club_  of all things, “No. No, I’m fine.”

“Just breath with me buddy.” The tanned man soothed, “Lancey Lance is here for you.”

Lance, that’s right, this guy’s name was Lance. He was really mad the last time Keith had forgotten it. Keith’s lips twitched a bit. He glanced back up, the tanned face close to his own, really close. Keith had forgotten how attractive that face was between all the drama that had followed up his initial observation. It make him squirm a bit, another hitch in the uncomfortable knot that was their relationship.

“You doing better man?” Lance asked, voice full of concern, “Should I call someone?”

“No.” Keith shook his head, taking a sept back and straightening up, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure.” Lance reached up, pulling a phone out of a pocket inside his unbuttoned suit jacket, “Because you can wait inside while we wait for someone to come get you.”

“I’m fine.” Keith replied, a bit more firmly now. Lance packed off, raising his hands in defeat. He bit his bottom lip shifting as the conversation, once again, came to a halt.

Keith brought his fingers through inky locks, eyes flickering back down his path, “Its getting late. I should go.”

Lance visibly flinched at the words, his fingers gripping around his expensive looking phone tightly. He took a deep breath, exhaling loudly before speaking, “Wait.”

Keith turned back towards the tanned man, “Do you need something? I really should go.”

The brunette fidgeted horribly, his face twisting nervously as the next words burst from his lips, “Please go get some coffee with me!”

The pale boy froze at that, startled. He blinked, not sure if he’d heard right at first, “What?”

Lance took another step foreword, his confidence growing once again, “I don’t mean, like, right now or anything. I’d just like to get you a coffee or something. In a café. In the daylight. As a thank you for saving my pretty face from that girl. And to make up for the smoothie shop.”

Keith blinked again, “…What?”

“Please say yes.” Lance leaned foreword, still holding himself back from touching Keith, “I promise you won’t regret it.”

Keith was pretty sure he would, in fact, regret it if he said yes. He puzzled over it a bit, trying to figure out how to tell Lance to fuck off, and normally he _would_  just say those exact words, but those blue eyes just stared at him so earnestly that the pale boy had a hard time saying no.

He sighed. What kind of guy thanked someone by buying them coffee anyway? Wasn’t a simple “thank you” enough these days? Curse Lance and his stupid, handsome, earnest face. How was Keith supposed to say no to him now?

“…Fine…” Keith agreed reluctantly.

Lance’s face lit up like the sun. He smiled, near blinding, and Keith would swear good money that his eyes _sparkled._ He bounced a bit, suddenly a lot more animated, “Great!”

“…When should we do this?” Keith sighed, resolving himself to an uncomfortable trip to a café. He tried to think if he’d ever even been inside one before, and he’s starting to become distressed to realize that he most likely hadn’t, “…And where?”

“Why don’t you give me your number and we can plan out the details?” Lance held up his phone expectantly.

Keith was, once again, filled with a deep sense of shame and discomfort as he was reminded of just _how_  deep his poverty ran. Everyone had a cellphone these days, and the fact he didn’t really said something about him. His cheeks reddened in embarrassment as he was forced to look Lance in the eyes and explain, “I don’t have a phone.”

The brunette blinked, confused at first, before repeating disbelievingly, “You don’t have a phone?”

“No.” Keith shook his head, looking away to hide his shame. Another silence fell over them, the ravenette stirring in him own embarrassment as the rich man next to him stared and stared.

“Okay.” Lance answered after a few moments, “We’ll…just meet up then.”

Keith nodded, “Sounds good.”

“When is a good time for you?” Lance asked, “I’m sort of my own boss, so I can schedule anytime.”

The pale boy side-eyed the rich jerk next to him, envious of the freedom the man apparently had with his schedule. Keith didn’t even have time to eat during his lunch breaks today, but this guy got to improvise coffee outings? Life really wasn’t fair, “My next day off is Wednesday.”

“Alright.” Lance nodded, looking down and fiddling with his phone a bit. He looked back up after a few moments, “How does ten in the morning sound?”

“That’s fine.” Keith shrugged.

“There’s a good place across the street, two buildings to the right of Altea Corp.” Lance pointed in the general direction of the building, “Is that good?”

“Yeah.” Keith nodded.

“And you’ll show up?” Lance leaned in, blue eyes trained on Keith, “You’ll remember, right?”

Keith was tempted to walk away, to pretend this entire conversation never happened. He didn’t know this guy, certainly didn’t trust him, couldn’t be sure that the man wouldn’t have a team waiting a ready while Keith walked into his trap…

No, stop it.

“I’ll be there.” Keith promised, “Ten o’clock. Café next to Altea Corp.”

“Great!” Lance perked up, practically bouncing away, “It’s a date!”

The brunette bound towards the door, stopping in the doorway to look back towards Keith, shooting his figure guns as he winked back at the pale boy, “I promise you won’t regret this gorgeous!”

And with that the tanned man was gone, back into the club and out of sight.

Keith blinked, confused, “…A date?...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter again guys. Sorry about that, but I've been really busy lately.


	11. Sunlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

Keith was in no way, shape, or form ready for a date.

How, exactly, he ended up getting a date with the club guy, he didn’t know. What he _did_  know was that there was no way he was ready for his date. The new clothes Plaxum had given him were nicer than his old ratty stuff, but they weren’t something he imagined would be suitable for a date.

Not that he’d ever _been_  on a date before.

Oh god, he’d never even had _coffee_  before.

He wasn’t ready for a date at all. He was going to walk into that café and end up embarrassing himself. There was no way he was going to get through this mess without humiliating himself and probably sending Lance running. Which would probably be a good thing considering he knew jack-all about they guy and still wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t a horrible mistake in the making.

Still.

He also didn’t want to stand the guy up. What if this was genuine? What if the guy really wanted a date, and was really looking forward to it, only for the day to come and he found himself sitting all alone at an empty table. No, Keith couldn’t do that to someone. Even if there was a chance that Lance was planning something sketchy, he’d just take care of the guy and get out of there before anything could happen.

But even with that resolve, it didn’t mean that Keith wasn’t standing in from of his mattress, every article of clothing he owned spread out over the surface, every article two sizes too large and not at all nice enough for a date.

The mice, who Keith had tried to release a while ago only for them to stick around like over affectionate cats, squeaked as they darted over the clothing. The fat one seemed to like the texture of a v-necked grey shirt that Keith had been favoring since he’d gotten the clothes. Meanwhile the tall, slim, one had taken to nosing around some dark jeans he’d yet to wear, heat and all.

The noriette cringed, reaching down to tug at the two articles of clothing, figuring that if the mice liked laying against them so much then they should be decent enough for a date.

With that issue resolved Keith tugged the clothing from under the mice, sending the mice rolling off and onto the bed with little squeaks. They jumped up, eyeing him judgmentally before running off and hiding somewhere within the room. He didn’t bother looking for them, knowing that they’d turn up in his kitchen later when they wanted food.

Clothes hanging off one arm, Keith made his way to his bathroom, sliping inside the small room with a grimace. His bathroom was, frankly, disgusting. There was a smell that never quite left, and stains that wouldn’t come clean no matter how much they were scrubbed or what they were scrubbed with. He was half sure someone had been murdered in this bathroom before, but he hadn’t dared ask when he started renting the apartment.

Still, the shower worked. He didn’t have nice soaps or shampoos, but the cheap stuff worked well enough to distract him for the funky smell for a moment, and it only became easier once the pipes had been fixed. He washed quickly anyway, not wanting to be in here any longer than he needed to be.

He dried quickly and slipped on the clothing, taking a moment to close his eyes and breath, just enjoying how soft and clean they felt against his skin. Towel drying his hair, he walked out of the bathroom and just took a second to breath and enjoy being clean.

A wave of confidence washed over him, a rare occurrence, and one he wasn’t going to question right now when he desperately needed it.

He could do this.

Nodding to himself, Keith gathered everything he needed and walked out the door. He made his way through the lobby, making sure not to make eye contact with Mr. Unilu, who was pounding on poor Coran’s door and yelling something about the rent. As much as he pitied poor Coran’s situation right now, he needed all his energy focused on his date. He slipped outside the building before the old swindler could spot him.

It was, once again, very hot outside. Despite being morning hours the sun still beat against his skin harshly, and Keith knew that it was going to be another terrible day to walk.

Luckily he had a ride today.

Antok, the blind man Keith had met through the Apartment Association, had taken it upon himself to become friendly with him ever since the panic attack in the parking lot. Well, he’d taken it upon himself to become friendly with both he and Shay, but the older man had taken a particularly keen interest in him. Something that had made Keith more than a little suspicious at first, not helped by the mystery surrounding the man who may or may not live with him, Kolivan, who Keith still wasn’t entirely convinced wasn’t a professional assassin of some sort. It _sounded_  like the ramblings of a paranoid maniac, but Keith would swear the entire thousand dollars that Coran had payed him he’d spotted Kolivan climbing in through Antok’s windows one to many times, and he _swears_  the man has been spying on him ever since he’d learnt his name.

So it probably wasn’t the best idea to get a ride in the guy’s car, but Kolivan was apparently heading towards Altea Corp for a “meeting” around that time, and Shay had some shopping to do in that area. All of it seemed a little _too_ perfect for Keith, but Shay had taken quite a shine to Antok and Kolivan by extent, and he wasn’t about to leave his friend alone with a possible professional murderer.

Both Shay and Kolivan were already in the parking lot, standing by a car that was looked way too nice to be surrounded by all the other beat up and terrible cars parked beside it. Antok was seated inside the car in the passenger seat, presumingly joining them on their trip. Though, Keith was a little baffled to see that Coran, apparently, wasn’t in his office but sitting in the back seat of the car.

“Keith!” Shay perked up when she saw him, waving him over. Kolivan stopped whatever he was saying to her, turning his gaze towards him, sending a shiver down his spin as the intense gaze was locked on him.

“Hey.” He greeted as he walked up, nodding at Shay, “I’m ready to go when you are.”

Shay giggled, being the only one in the group who actually knew why he was going to the café. Keith _swears_  he sees Kolivan’s eyes narrow the slightest bit in suspicion. The pale boy bit the inside of his cheek, shifting a bit as he glanced at the car, “Coran going to that meeting?”

“Yes actually.” Kolivan nodded, speaking in that rough gravel of a voice, “We’re attending the same meeting, so he thought it would be more environmentally friendly to travel together.”

Keith humed, filing that particular bit of information away for now. At least he knew that Kolivan wasn’t lying about the meeting, but now he was very much concerned about what Coran was doing in a meeting with a possible hitman.

Shay slipped into the car, still smiling at him as she slid into the middle seat, leaving Coran still enthusiastically speaking to an apparently listening Antok on her right side. Keith hesitantly followed her into the car, sending a quick prayer to whatever gods listened that this wouldn’t be his last moments before his grizzly death. It would certainly ruin his date if it was.

The car ride didn’t turn out to be a disaster, it was filled with pleasant and excited chatter, mainly from Coran and Shay. Shay, in particular, seemed particularly inclined to be encouraging and make little remarks about how well she hopes his own “meeting” will go, drawing continuous glances from Kolivan, he swears.

It's a relief when Kolivan parks the car and the all pile out. Kolivan pulls Antok over to speak quietly. Shay straightened out her dress, dusting everything off before grabbing her purse and making sure it was hung around her shoulders.

“Good, good, we’ve made it early!” Coran bounces out of the car enthusiastically, patting both Shay and Keith on the shoulder, “What time will you two be done?”

Keith blinked, startled, “Ummm?”

“It’s alright, we can wait!” Coran humed good-naturedly, “I’m sure our meeting will take longer than your shopping.”

Coran turned on his heel and bounced away, grabbing a tote bag from the car and bounding for the large glass doors of the Altea Corp building. Kolivan nodded as he finished his conversation with Antok, pulling out a wallet and pulling out shiny card before handing it to the blind man before turning on his heel to leave.

Anotk turned and walked towards them, joining to two remaining friends as he pocketed the card, “Are you ready Ms. Balmera?”

“Oh, yes.” Shay perked up. She smiled, turning to face Keith as he adjusted the straps of her purse, “You’ll be at the café, right?”

“Yes.” Keith nodded slowly, his eye flickering between the two.

“Excellent, we’ll meet you there once we’re done.” Shay promised.

Apparently not only did Keith have a ride here, he had a ride home as well. That was...very nice actually. It would be nice to get home without having to worry about avoiding getting mugged. He didn’t say that though, hoping that a simple nodded and confirming noise would be enough to convey how grateful he was, even if that _did_  mean he had to spend another twenty minutes in a car with a professional assassin. At least Kolivan didn’t seem too keen on killing him for any reason.

Shay and Antok made their way towards the shops that lined the street, arm in arm as the girl lead the giant man down the unfamiliar streets. Keith watched them go, keeping an extra eye on them incase someone tried anything. The two of them were both muscled and intimidating, but Shay was gentle and a lot of assholes would take advantage of a blind man.

He only moved one he watched them enter the first store. He sighed in relief, glad to know they were both safe. With no other excuses to stay out in the warm sun he moved towards the café, deciding that he could wait for his date to start inside.

He stopped short of the door, catching his reflection in the window. The café was big. It was privately owned, overstuffed with chairs and pictures, with shelves filled with cups made by local artist for sale. In the corner Keith could just make our a bookshelf overstuffed with old looking books and magazines. Apparently, the place also allowed dogs inside, because he saw no less than two people with dogs.

Lance wasn’t inside yet.

Keith sighed in relief and pushed open the door, his muscles relaxing as a wave of cool air hit him. He stepped in, letting the glass door fall closed. The baristas were busy with a small line of people, but they called out that they’d be with him in a minute. The noirette shook his head, deciding that he would simple wait for Lance to show up first.

He made his way into a back corner, plopping down in one of two fluffy armchairs next to a small coffee table. He relaxed into the soft leather, marveling at the comfortable seat. It was softer than his mattress for damn sure. He entertained the thought of stealing it for a moment, chuckling as he thought of his tiny and underfed ass trying to lift this up and run out the door while the poor baristas chased him through the hot sun.

He smiled, somehow doubting he could even fit the chair in the car. Shay would be _so_  disappointed if he turned up with a stolen chair.

Keith checked the clock on the wall above the baristas. Five minutes until their meeting time. Lance would be here any minute and their date would start. His stomach bubbled nervously, and his throat suddenly became dry and heavy.

Oh fuck, he wasn’t ready for this.

 _Oh fuck_ he wasn’t ready for this.

Keith closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. It was okay, it was only his first date. The worst that could happen was Lance turned out to be a jerk. It happened all the time, and this would be good for future any future dating experience even if it went bad.

He’s not sure how long he waited there, but it didn’t take long before the sound of footsteps approaching filled his ears, “Well, don’t _you_  look gorgeous today?”

Violet eyes snapped open, meeting blue. Lance’s cocky face came into view, and one look at him once again made Keith feel underdressed. Was Lance always dressed like he was at the club? Either way it made the noriette want to squirm in his hand-me-down shirt.

Lance though, had definitely made a bit of extra effort not to look quite as fancy as he usually did, even if it was much fancier than Keith would ever look. His shirt wasn’t button down, and he wasn’t wearing a stylish jacket and expensive black shoes. Although he had a watch on that probably could have paid several months rent.

The brunette plopped down on the chair across from him, grinning the whole way, like he was pleased to see that Keith had actually shown up, “And here before me! Did you come early?”

“I caught a ride with a friend.” Keith found himself saying, not sure how else to start this. Luckily that seemed to be fine with Lance, because he perked up.

“That’s good.” He said it with a small smile and a gleam in his eye, like he was storing information away for later. His blue eyes flickered over the table, “You didn’t order yet?”

“No.” Keith shook his head, biting his lip. Should he have ordered something? He risked a glance at the menu, noting the complex selection of choices written on the giant board. Fuck, he barely recognized any of the names, much less knew if he’d like any of them. The only thing he saw on the menu that he’d tried before was hot chocolate.

“That’s okay, I’ll get up something.” Lance winked at him, “My treat since I’m the one who asked _you_  out.”

What that how it worked? Keith rolled over what he knew about dates in his head. He’d seen a few on movies, but they rarely got to the part where someone paid. Keith had figured that he would end up paying for his own drink. Then again, Lance had offered it so easily that it must be a natural part of dating. Or it could just be because Lance is a rich bastard with a watch that could pay all of Keith’s classes.

“You okay?” Lance asked, frowning, snapping Keith right out of where he’d gotten lost in his thoughts, “I don’t _have_  to get it for you…”

“No, it’s fine.” Keith hastily agreed, not wanting to worry the other boy before they even made it five minutes into the date, “I don’t mind.”

Lance’s lips quirked, “Alright then, if you’re sure. What would you like?”

Keith sunk back in his seat, letting the cutions hug him, deciding to name the only thing on the menu he’d tried, “Hot chocolate.”

Lance paused, blinking for a second, before his lips quirked again, “With or without whip cream?”

“...With?” Keith blinked.

“Alright, I’ll be right back. Want anything else?” Lance smiled, standing up and brushing off his jeans.

“No thanks.” Keith answered.

Lance smirked and shot him finger guns, walking backwards for a bit before turning around to step into line.

Keith exhaled. Alright, so far so good. Everything was going well so far, Lance hadn’t run off yet, and he was getting a drink. Nothing to freak out about. Still, he couldn’t help but keep an eye on the tanned man, watching him as he waited in line, ready to make sure nothing was slipped in his drink.

One close call was more than enough for him.

Lance didn’t do anything though, he just ordered two drinks and a large slice of cake that they put on a little plate. He smiled and winked at the lady who made it and pun on his heel back over to the table, placing everything down before he sat, “Miss me?”

“You were only gone for about ten minutes.” Keith stated, his head tilting, “And I could see you from where I am.”

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t miss me.” Lance wriggled his eyebrow as he slid a paper cup of hot chocolate with a _lot_  of whip cream over, a little dog drawn in blue sharpie on the side, “Even such a short distance is too far from you.”

Keith snorts, picking up the cup and holding it between his hands, “Does that line ever work?”

“Hey! My pick up lines are great!” Lance tries to sound offended, but he’s smiling, “What about you? I bet you don’t have anything better.”

“You’re right.” Keith nods with what he hopes is a smug smile, “Because I’d never use a pick up line on anyone. I’m not that cruel.”

Lance pouts, taking a sad bite of the oddly plain looking cake, “What if I _like_  hearing pick up lines?”

“Then you’re going to be very disappointed.” Keith informs him, “Because I don’t know any.”

“That’s a lie, there’s no way someone hasn’t used a pick up line on you before.” Lance looks absolutely offended by the notion, “No way.”

“Believe it or not I’m not exactly a ten out of ten.” Keith gestures at his malnourished, pale, uncared for figure, “And this is _after_  a makeover. You saw me when you were getting mugged, I looked like a mess. And _that_  was after I cleaned myself up. Trust me, I used to be a mess.”

“I refuse to believe that.” Lance shakes his head, “You’re absolutely a ten.”

Keith snorts again, “I’m not sure it’s going to work out if you keep lying to me.”

“I’m not lying.” Lance says, voice suddenly serious. He placed down his spoon, his eyes locked with Keith’s, a frown on his face. “Look, yeah you can stand to gain some weight, but you’re gorgeous. And if you _do_ gain that weight you’re going to shoot straight past a ten and be too good for everyone.”

Lance was suddenly smiling again, “You’ll be too beautiful for this world. Agencies are going to try and turn you into a model. Girls are going to cry when they see you. The Pope himself is going to fly in from the Vatican with the Dalai Lama just to meet you. I’m going to have to use every pick up line I know on you so that you’re prepared.”

The heater must have broken down sometime during Lance’s little tirade, because it was a lot warmer than it had been a moment ago. Keith hid behind his cup, taking a sip of his hot chocolate, the whip cream smearing across his lip with its velvety sweetness.

The hot chocolate was delicious. It was rich and sweet and just like he remembered it being years ago, when it was just him and his dad in their house in Texas. During cold nights with just the two of them wrapped in blankets, the sweet drink warm in his tiny hands and his father’s arms so large his hug could have wrapped around him twice.

“Are you okay?” Lance’s voice cut through Keith’s memories, starting the noritte out of hi daze. Lance was frowning now, the concern clear on his face. Why was…?

Oh, his eyes had gone teary again. They were doing that a lot lately.

Fuck, this was a mess, and this had been going so well too.

“I’m fine.” Keith straightened, himself out, whipping his eyes. He flushed, the humiliation spreading through him, and he stumbled to try and explain himself, “I’m sorry, It’s just...been a long time since…”

He tried to hide behind his drink, flushing again. How was he supposed to explain? He couldn’t just drop years worth of baggage on Lance during the first date. He couldn’t explain that this little cup that cost less than Lance’s pocket change was the worth more than all the money in his pocket to Keith. He couldn’t explain that it was home with his father after abusive families and losing Shiro and living for years under a bridge.

Lance was staring at him, his face unreadable. Keith’s face remained red as he took another sip from his cups, waiting in anticipation for the brunette to do or _say_  anything.

“God you’re adorable.” Lance breathed after a moment.

“ _What_?” Keith snapped up, offended, “I am _not_.”

“You are.” Lance tapped the tip of his nose, “You’ve got some cream here.”

Keith blinked, raising his hand to wipe away the cream. He sniffed, not sure what to do now, especially with the sudden turn the conversation had taken. Was Lance and asshole for ignoring how upset he’d been just now? Or was he sweet for trying to distract him? What was going on?

“You should try a bite of this.” Lance picked up his fork and cut off a piece of the cake, stabbing the little square and holding it up, “It’s called Lemon Creme Cake and it’s one of the best things ever.”

“I’m okay.” Keith mumbled, sinking into his seat.

“No one is okay until they try Lemon Creme Cake.” Lance stated seriously, waving his tiny fork in an attempt to entice him, “Come ooooooonnnnn. I promise you won’t regret it!”

Lance’s handsome face was so earnest and eagar that Keith felt a crack in the wall around his heart, right in a spot that Shay had been slowly chipping away and Coran had managed to whittle through. Soft feelings that Keith had long buried in the vault of his heart leaked through, spilling past the defenses like nectar through a sieve, thick and slow but spilling all the same.

He took a bite before he could change his mind.

The cake was just as sweet as the hot chocolate, but with a lemon tang that he distantly remembered that lemonade must have tasted like. He thinks so anyway. Either way it was just as overstimulating as everything else he had eaten so far. He was able to force tears from forming though.

“Do you like it?” Lance asked after Keith was done chewing, eager for the pale man’s opinion on what must have seemed like such a silly thing to him.

“It’s good.” Keith answered, mouth still overwhelmed with the sweet tang, still unused to such strong flavors, “Very sweet…”

“I knew you’d like it!” Lance exclaimed, looking very pleased with himself, “No one with good taste can resist a good creme cake! Oh man, I bet you would love my buddy Hunk’s cake!”

And then Lance was off, rambling about his buddy Hunk and how he had to be the best cook ever, and how Keith would absolutely love his cooking. He stopped then, looking contemplative before turning his eyes on the noriette, “I’ll have to bring you some next time.”

Next time.

He wanted another date. Even after that breakdown and the tears. Somehow he hadn’t fucked this up, or he’d been forgiven for his fuck up. Somehow Lance still wanted to give him another shot.

If he even wanted another shot.

Violet eye flickered over tanned skin, studying Lance. He really was good looking. Tall and lean, with bronze skin and deep eyes. He was exactly Keith’s type whenever the noriette had let his thoughts stray into that territory, wondering about a future he’d never actually thought would happen. And, more than that, he was surprisingly sweet too. Much nicer than Keith had initially thought.

Keith could see himself loving Lance, with enough time. He didn’t know if he was ready for that, or if he was ready to let someone that close, but he already had a crack in the wall around his heart and nectar slipping from his soul, so he was ready to try.

“Yeah.” Keith smiled, taking another sip from his cup, the velvet kissing his lips, “Next time you should, I would love to try his cooking.”

The smile Lance gave outshone the sun.

 

* * *

 

It had been five years since Shiro had seen the sunlight for more than a few minutes.

Not that the sun was in an way the thing he missed most outside his cell. He could count the precious things to him in the stars, but he could count on one hand the things he missed the most.

Adam, he missed him. God, he missed him so much. He wishes that their last conversation hadn’t ended the way it did, that he’d gotten a chance to apologise. He couldn’t even remember why they fought, something stupid he bets, probably something to do with his illness. Back when he had it.

He missed Matt, who’d been taken away about three years ago. They’d been in this together before then, but one day they had just moved his friend and Shiro had never seen him again. Nightmares of what they must have done to him still haunt him, the unknown far worse than any confirmation.

He misses his arm, the experimental robotic replacement having been painful and horrible.

Keith is also constantly on his mind. He’d been so small when everything had happened and every promise Shiro had made was broken. He promised Keith a lot; that he’d get him out of his foster home and safe, that he’d be there for him always, that he’d take care of him and would get him into a good school if he was just patient and waited for the paperwork to go through.

He hopes Adam had at least done something for Keith. No, Adam had _definitely_  gotten Keith out of there. Even if their fight had been bad Adam wouldn’t have left Keith high and dry. Even if he didn’t take Keith in himself he would help him.

It’s just a shame no one could help Shiro now.

He leaned his head against the wall, white, too white, and listened to the distant sounds of footsteps walking by. The “hospital” staff making their usual rounds. The “nurses” making sure that all the patients were in. All three of them. It sounded like they were talking to poor Slav again. Shiro felt a pang of sympathy. The man may be annoying, but he wouldn’t wish this on anyone.

More footsteps, the next door, muffled voices. Kuron’s room now. Shiro’s strange doppelganger growling in defiance as hushed voices spoke. It was normal for their situation. What wasn’t normal was when Kuron’s defiant screams stopped, silence following before more footsteps sounded.

His room next.

He held his breath.

Ulaz poked his head inside the room and Shiro sighed in relief. Ulaz was okay, Ulaz was good. Shrio preferred Ulaz. He wasn’t a psychopath like the others, he was just as trapped here as Shiro was.

“Come on.” Ulaz spoke, “It’s time, I’m getting you out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am BBell, the Khaleesi of the Voltron! Mother of Fluff! Protector of Klance! Patron of hurt/comfort! Writer of a hundred fanfics. Creator of all AUs. And I will take what is mine! With fanfics and fanart I will take it! VCrew nor anyone else can stop me!


End file.
